


ringdingdonggongogng

by madeinchinainkorea



Category: sedrctfbhuimko
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25673998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeinchinainkorea/pseuds/madeinchinainkorea
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**"VERA, MOVE. I** need to wee."

For the second time within the last twelve hours, Vera found herself hunched over the toilet, spewing out the remains of last night's story. Although this time, there was no comforting James Charles to baby her as she sicked up ━ instead, only a moody and hungover Wilbur lingered. Groaning a quiet 'sod off', Vera found herself reminiscing over whatever happened the night before.

Being perfectly honest, the memory she had of last night was a vague blur, and really, she couldn't blame herself. Chunks of it were missing, such as whatever happened in the toilets with James. Vera was sure she had said something mildly important, but hey, if she couldn't remember then it couldn't have been _that_ important. Despite the fact she should have probably been dying in the hospital judging by how much she drank, Vera could still remember every single damn regretful encounter she had with Schlatt. That was the entire reason she'd got pissed off her face to begin with!

"I'm not fucking joking here, Vera. I will literally piss on your head if you don't move."

"How bloody charming," she uttered as she gingerly made her escape. 

She greeted Adam's living room with a soft mewl as sunlight bit viciously through the window ━ what kind of psychopath had their curtains open at this time of morning? ━ only making Vera want to recoil back into her fetal position on Adam's tattered sofa. A grim pounded seethed through her head and she slumped against the dusty mirror that hung on the wall. Vera didn't dare look at herself as frankly, she just knew how dreadful she must've appeared. Besides, the I-told-you-so's that she guaranteed Wilbur would shoot at her later were enough to stop her looking.

Gradually as she bit back the urge to vomit all over Adam's living room, she brought herself up mostly verticle and staggered to her suitcase, picking out an odd clothes that would at least look mildly better than her current outfit. Up until then, Vera had been kitted out in only the finest ugly jumper, her dress pooled around her hips and only one sock on ━ it wasn't even her sock! It was one half of the flamingo pair Wilbur had received from his mum on Christmas. That taken care of, Vera shambled to the toilet as soon as Wilbur had left and relieved the pressure in her bladder, before trying her best to ignore the roiling in her gut as she attempted to brush her teeth. After that, she did her best to pat and brush her hair down into something slightly more presentable, and left the bathroom, only to be welcomed than none other than Adam Aquino.

Vera bit back the strong urge to groan when she met eyes with the man. 

At least, he hadn't done anything to offend her. _Yet_.

"Good mornin' Vera!" Adam greeted, his tone far too jaunty for her burning headache to stand.

She simply slid on an unreadable face and croaked, "Yeah, uh, morning..."

"Breakfast? I'll make it for you an' Wilbur, don't want ya hangover gettin' the better of ya." He replied with such a pleasant answer, Vera was slightly taken aback and sputtered quietly in response. Well, wasn't that quite lovely of him? Vera was honestly thinking of letting Adam cook the breakfast but the warning of laxatives laced her mind and quickly decided that it was best that he most definitely didn't make her breakfast.

Slightly impressed, she pressed her lips into an amiable smile. "Ah, well, I, uh... why don't I cook it for you instead? I mean, I've just got to thank you so much for you being such a fucking _wonderful_ host. I mean, you're _so_ lovely Adam." That was a load of bullshit and Wilbur entered back into the room, snorting away hearing this.

"Alright then, all yours." He gestured away to the kitchen and Vera wasted no time in rifling through all the cabinets in search of a pan. It was surprising that she'd yet to find any bloody machetes hidden away with the nerving amount of spoons. "I'm not gonna lie to ya Vera 'cause I'm ya friend an' all, but like, goddamn, ya look like absolute fuckin' shit. Like Jesus Christ, I've seen some fuckin dog's assholes lookin' better than you today."

"I'll make you into a fucking dog's arsehole in a minute," Vera muttered, her famous scowl falling onto her face. Of course, his brief and strange surge of friendliness wouldn't last long and the urge to shank him with the butter knife she'd found boiled in her stomach. Wilbur by now had inched closer, warily switching his gaze between Vera and Adam, though he tried to play it off by dramatically saying he had an eyelash stuck in his eye.

Adam picked at his fingernails. "Tell me Vera, 'cause I am like pretty fuckin' nosey, but... does that Joseph Schlag guy like trashy girls?" 

Vera froze, a shiver of rage scraping down her spine. "You what?"

"Ya heard me... does he like trashy girls? 'Cause I saw how he was lookin' at ya last night and I━"

Oh, _that_ was the final fucking straw. Vera, finding the frying pan, clutched fiercely in her palm and before she knew it, her arm was in position for a good fucking throttle at the ungrateful rat's head. The wind edged around the pan and she was barely five inches away from his fat fucking head, Adam had ducked and━

Wilbur had thrust hastily between them, tackling her for the frying pan as Adam buried his head in his hands. Settling the pan down onto the counter, he hushed her, eyes bulging out of his skull after that entire ordeal and took a sharp and irritated gasp for breath. They mimed at each other in a tense silence, both asking each other 'what the fuck were you thinking' before pleading with one another to just _stop_. Addressing Adam with the most sickly-sweet smile Wilbur could muster that morning, he finally addressed the man.

"Adam, I am so sorry about Vera. She was just doing her daily stretch in the morning, you know? It's pretty violent, _right_? Aha ha..." Wilbur chuckled stiffly, gulping to try and see if Adam trusted their completely atrocious lie. Miraculously, Adam was laughing along and Vera held such a mix of outraged disbelief, she'd completely paralyzed herself. "Well, uh, anyway, we need to go... isn't that right Vera?"

"Uh, yeah." What the _fuck_ was he talking about?

Wilbur latched onto her arm and wasted no time in dragging them both to the from door as Adam interrogated them about where exactly they needed to go. "Well, you see, there's a sort of clean up thing for the party today, and we seriously need to help out. No no, you don't need to come Adam... anyway, goodbye!"  
  


Once they were well out of range of Adam's superhuman hearing, Vera had managed to actually process the fact that, oh _fuck_ , she'd almost attacked Adam bloody Aquino (also known as her best friend's fucking boyfriend). It wasn't like he didn't deserve it but really, was Vera seriously about to kill him with a frying pan over calling her trashy? And having the goddamned gall to say Jonathan sodding Schlatt _liked_ her? 

As much as she wanted to gloat over the fact that Vera had been the one to _almost_ do something about Adam, Vera decided to keep the conversation out of murdering territory. After a short while of gathering her thoughts, Vera finally spoke again. "What'd you mean by a 'clean up thing', Wilbur?"

"We're gonna go help clean up the party." He answered simply, eyes glued to the map on his phone.

Vera scoffed. "You're taking the bloody piss Wilbur... you seriously think I'm gonna go clean up a mess that ain't even mine? With this raging hangover? You're taking the piss..."  
  


"Well, Vera, thanks to you nearly fucking murdering the guy, its either that or sitting around Adam's ruddy place all day. God knows neither of us have the bloody patience for that." He lead them down another street, eyebrows furrowed together. "Stop your moping Vera. I bet you won't even have to raise a single finger. There's bound to be loads of people helping, so you can just sit around and wallow in your hangover. Honestly, I told you so..."

Vera gave herself a brain point for predicting the first I-told-you-so of the day.

They'd arrived at the venue a mere hour later and Vera's face had practically fallen at the sight of the once glimmering marquee. It had lost all its majestic qualities over the night, no longer hosting the almost enchanting fairy lights and the hum of jazz. Instead it hosted bundles of beer cans, plastic forks and paper plates and an odd smell wafting over from one of the bushes tucked in near-by. All it looked like was a grim-looking tent, stained by the raindrops that had passed over during the night. Vera had hope in Wilbur and thought that surely loads of people would be there, just like he'd said.

Instead, as they swooped back the heavy curtains at the entrance, they were greeted by two other glum-ridden people. The only people there, other than Vera and Wilbur ━ Travis and Jonathan Schlatt. Why was she not surprised? The universe certainly had it in for her today. It seemed Wilbur's spirits had dropped too and with a slightly slower march, he greeted the pair with a friendly bro hug.

Vera waved a polite hello to Travis, who friendly as ever, smiled brightly in return. "Vera, right? I've heard so much about you, thanks to the big guy over there," he gestured vaguely over to Schlatt, held deeply in concentration as he listened to Wilbur. "He's always rambling about how stupid you are and how pr━ oh, _crap_. Nearly forgot to introduce myself there. I am _Travis_." There went the voice crack.

"Nice one," she smirked, shaking his hand.

"Right gang!" Wilbur chimed, supposedly trying to boost their spirits but to Vera, he just came off as a Wish version of Fred from Scooby-Doo. The only sprinkle of enthusiasm came from Travis who clapped softly and cheered a small whoop, raising Wilbur's mood ever-so-slightly. "Since we're the only ones here we should split up in pairs, _couples_ if you will.  
  


She pinched the bridge of her nose in despair. "God, I know where this is going... Wilbur, _please_."

"If it makes any difference," Travis began, raising his hand and to which Vera barely suppressed her sigh. She just knew that Travis was going to say something like he wanted to partner with Wilbur. "I call Schlatt, he's got the giant crab clipper things."

Thank God for Travis!

Vera let out a huff of relief and quite merrily grabbed a bin bag, pulled on the elastic gloves set upon one of the tables nearby and ambled up to Wilbur with nothing but the widest shit-eating grin plastered upon her face. As smugly as she could, Vera clutched onto Wilbur's arm, batted her eyelashes at him and let out a mocking little giggle.

"Hello, partner."

He wasn't impressed. "You're such a shit Vera, I was trying to do that for your own good."

"My own good, my fucking arse, Wilbur." Vera hissed through gritted teeth. "I don't need you trying to set me up with that _thing_ over there," she motioned over scornfully to Schlatt who appeared to be scratching his bum with the litter picker. "You really should just like give up already, it's never ever gonna happen."

Despite himself, Wilbur silenced and gave up for now. The pair wasted no time in cracking on and soon got to work. Idly, they chatted and gossiped, and Wilbur wasted no time over fawning over how pretty Nikki when they face-timed the other day and how much he wanted to go back to Germany, and how... well, by then, Vera had stopped listening. Frankly, listening to the intimate details of anyone's relationship made her want to be swallowed by the void, let alone listening to Wilbur's. After five minutes or so of simply picking up small bits of confetti, she supposed Wilbur had stopped. He'd fallen deadly quiet and seemed to simply be staring into the abyss. 

Vera turned to see whatever he'd been looking at. She gulped.

Towering before her and hands planted firmly to his waist was Schlatt. Painted obviously upon his face lay a mixed feeling of disgust and confusion. He glowered down at her and from her squatted position on the floor, she'd never laid eyes upon something so intimidating in her life. His shitting Timberlands looked as though they could flatten her in a heartbeat and the way his sweatpants clung to his legs, and just how bloody good he looked in that ruddy navy blue jumper, could've completely━

Ohh, she _really_ needed to stop this.

"Why the _fuck_ is she pickin' up individual bits of confetti?" Schlatt jeered to Wilbur. 

The latter shrugged in response, acting almost as though Vera wasn't even there. "I have no idea. I suspected she'd stopped listening to me and started doing whatever, because if she had been listening, she would've realised I'd been talking about cheese for the past five minutes."

"You've been _what_?"

Schlatt mumbled a quiet 'dumbass' beneath his breath before speaking aloud. "Well, anyway. Wilbur, I need ya. Could ya please go and look after Travis for me, I can't deal with him no more. Every time the poor boy bends over to pick up some trash, more fuckin' trash falls outta his goddamn bag."

"Yeah, of course." Smugness peeled onto Wilbur's lips as he arose from the ground, he gave one swift pat to Schlatt's shoulder and a sneaky middle-finger to Vera before sauntering away.

Vera had only noticed Schlatt was still glaring at her as she raised her gaze up from his sweatpants. 

Oh, _God_. She was alone with Schlatt. _Again_. If only there was still more liquor left at the bar, so then she could down it all in one go. Though in second thought, drinking around Schlatt most certainly wouldn't end well. Lord have mercy what she would do the next time she was drunk around him. If she thought of kissing him with only a few dashes of alcohol then after downing bottles upon bottles, there was the damn risk of her brain saying 'fuck it' and actually doing it!

"Are ya just gonna sit there or what? Help me pick up this broken glass." He snapped, clipping the litter pickers in her face and heading over to clear up the shards on the floor.

She complied, not daring to speak a word. How could she? Especially after last night. The silence that radiated between the pair felt as though it was swelling up Vera's insides. How unbearably awkward the tension was and Vera most certainly didn't have the nerve to do something about it, especially after last night. Speaking was the last thing on her mind, because really what could she say? Sorry for being a bellend? Sorry for doing something in the bathroom with James Charles? Sorry for wanting to snog him? Well, she supposed that she could return the favour after Schlatt's odd apology after last night. 

After clearing up the last of glass and confetti, Vera decided to speak.

"Sorry..." She mumbled, barely audible. Vera could hardly look him in the eye.

He merely chuckled. "Sorry for what?"  
  


"I-I, well, uh..." She twiddled her thumbs. She knew that she couldn't tell him all the things she was actually sorry for because his loudmouth would tell Wilbur and God forbid if Wilbur found out. "Just sorry..."  
  


"Right." 

There was a beat of silence once more and Vera wondered how much more of this awkwardness she could take. 

"How much do you hate me? On a scale of one to ten?" The words had spilt out before she'd even processed what she'd said. 

"What?" Schlatt snorted.

"I mean, you heard me didn't you? How much?" Regret charged her body, feeling even more like a moron than she did only seconds earlier. 

Schlatt seemed to sputter for an answer, looking anywhere but Vera herself and clipping harshly away at his litter pickers. "Ya know we've had this same exact conversation before Vera." He glanced up at her, seeing a prying expression on her face. "And like I told you last time, I just really dislike you, ya know? 'Cause if I did really hate ya, that would imply that I cared."  
  


Ouch. 

Grinding her teeth, her lips fell into a long, thin line.

"And you?"

_And you? And you!?_ Vera found herself thinking spitefully, her mouth waning away and drying up faster than she cared to admit. An inexplicable rage surged inside her, clawing at her lungs and the only words she was thinking of retaliating with had crumbled to dust. The sense in her implored for some sort of reasoning ━ seriously, what had she expected? Vera knew the answer before she'd even asked and yet, why had the thought of him not even caring struck such a mighty chord?

Jabbing miserably at a ripped paper plate scattered upon the floor, she cleared her throat.

"Yep. Same."

"Well, ain't that nice?" Schlatt said, attempting a sardonic smile. He paused, looking up at vera who was blankly staring at her binbag. "Look, since ya here in New York, we'll probably be around each other a lot and━"

"Fat fucking chance." She snapped.

Schlatt scoffed, rolling his eyes and digging his litter picker into the wood below. "God, ya know it would really help if you just stopped ya bitchin' and whining every ten seconds."

Vera barely stifled her gasp at that and with nostrils flaring, she jerked to her feet. " _Wowww_ , ain't you one hell of a fucking hypocrite? Honestly, I-I can't even believe how absolutely fucking braindead you are! You have the audacity to tell _ME_ to be nicer to you after saying that you don't even care about me. What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

"What's wrong with me? What wrong with _ME_? Take a look at yourself, ya jabroni!"

"Oh, go fuck yourself you fucking stinking bellend. You're literally the biggest moron to grace this planet."  
  


"Ya know, everyone's entitled to act stupid but you just really take the fuckin' cake by abusing that privilege."

"I will literally shove my foot so far up your damn arse that you━"

There was one smashing clatter echoing from the other side of the room and emerging from behind one of the tables was Wilbur. "Could you two please just shut the fuck up already!?" Schlatt and Vera scrambled for any sort of counterattack for the interruption, but all that came out was a cluster of stammers and sputters as they glared, dumbfounded. From afar, Wilbur (quite obviously vexed) announced to Travis that he was going to take a break, and Travis followed ensuite as Wilbur left the tent in a grump.

"Ya know what," Schlatt seethed through gritted teeth, not once taking his eyes off from Vera and harshly stuffing rubbish into his bag. "I think that that is a ━ very ━ good ━ idea."

Vera huffed, not exactly admitting defeat and slumped into one of the chairs nearby. For a moment she considered chugging out her entire stockpile of garbage onto his stupid fat head, but the wrath of Wilbur certainly wouldn't be worth it later on.

Being perfectly honest, she was just a smidge hurt. Despite herself and her thoughts in Adam's car the night before, Vera had considered even coming to some sort of mutual agreement with Schlatt, so that they could simply stop fighting. She'd rather enjoyed not arguing with him the night before. So what if he was Jonathan sodding Schlatt? So what if he just so happened to be really fucking fit? So what if he had an abnormally small forehead? And so what if Schlatt's hands were far too veiny and his fingers were a tad too slender for Vera's own good, and━

She was staring. Again. 

And evidently, Schlatt had noticed by the way he glared at her as though she'd just shoved a giant jar of shit down her throat.

In one tiny moment, they locked eyes and Vera fleetingly tore her gaze.

This was getting all a bit too much for Vera. The large swelling in her chest and bouncing knee told the same story as the tension in the air once again returned, and she just had the sneaking premonition that one of them was about to either do something that they'd both regret. 

"So I━"

"Well we━"

Oh, Jesus Christ! Just her timing, speaking at the exact time he'd done. They glanced at each other unsure, before oh-so courtesy (and out of fear) Vera motioned for him to start first.

He sighed, bunched his bag close to his chest and finally spoke. "Look, I really do kinda think that we got off on the wrong foot, ya know?"

"Well," Vera paused, very much so bewildered as to where the hell _that_ had come from. "Yeah... I suppose I think we did too."

"Okay, so━"

"And I appreciate your apology." Vera reclined into her seat, looking down at him.

Schlatt stammered, his eyebrows knotting together in a tight bunch. "Apology? Now, hold on a fuckin' minute, who said anythin' about some kinda apology? I was just saying that━"

"God, you're such an arse."  
  


"Don't you interrupt me, ya dipshit." He warned, jabbing her shin with the litter picker. 

"Now who the fuck are you calling a dipshit when _you_ literally exist," Vera said.

"You're a goddamn hypocrite and honestly I━" Schlatt snapped, before stopping himself and taking one great sniff of the air. "We are _not_ startin' this again, alright? I am so sick and tired of always arguing with your dumbass 24/7, so maybe you should take a fuckin' hint and shut the fuck up, so we can stop fighting."

Vera perched herself in a conformational position, rebuffing him completely. "You know, maybe _your_ dumbass should shut up too."

A mighty groan escaped Schlatt's lips as he leaned against the table behind him, pinching the bridge of his nose in sheer despair. "Oh, Jesus fuckin' Christ. Shut up, would ya? I literally just said that we should stop fightin'."

"What..." Vera blinked at him, her face scrunching into a crease. Something bubbling in her gut told her that whatever it was most certainly wasn't going to be good. "Now tell me, what exactly are you trying to say?"

Schlatt glowered at her as if expecting that this was a challenge. "Ya dumb broad, I just told you that you ━ okay, _we_ ━ should be quiet for once and maybe... come to some sorta agreement."

"Agreement?" Vera repeated, taking her time to grasp exactly what he was hinting at. The suspicion burning inside her was unbearable, as frankly, she had no reason to trust this 'agreement', nevermind Schlatt at all. What exactly was he playing at? Did he secretly work for the Italian Mafia and was planning to kidnap her, or sell her to One Direction? Was he trying to kill her? All the questions in her mind only dwindled her trust more and with a quirked brow and caution high in tone, Vera decided to speak once again. "What'dya mean? Like, uh, sort of peace treaty?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, if ya wanna put it like that then, sure."

"Oh." 

"So? What do ya say?"

There had to be something he wanted from her ━ there was no way in hell Schlatt would do this unless he was looking to extort her for money, or worse, mug her and spend it all on an extra pair of Timbs. But then again, her curiosity was biting away. What would it be like being on neutral terms with Schlatt? Sure, she would still dislike him, but maybe some kind of peace would settle things. Besides, no one had to know about _this_. No one needed to know. God forbid if Wilbur found out, but nevertheless, it really didn't seem that bad.

" _Well_? I ain't got all day here." Schlatt asked again.

"Oh, go on then." Vera gave in, exhaling for the first time in a while. "But! No one finds out, alright? I ain't dealing with Wilbur and whatever the fuck he's got going on in his head. Deal?"

"Deal." Schlatt finished. Finessing out his hand, he offered it to Vera in one swift movement. Well, wasn't he dedicated? There was a brief moment of hesitance in Vera, but then again, why was she getting all pissy over a handshake?

She clasped on and regret swallowed her whole the moment she did so. The instant realisation of how unbelievably sweaty and stiff her palm was compared to the gentle touch of Schlatt made her only feel more and more sheepish. Her heart was drumming against her throat and she barely stifled the choke in her voice as his grip grew firmer against her prickling skin. Scarcely resting the urge to trail her fingertips along every dainty arch and vein slithered across his hand, Vera shook it. Her eyes could hardly keep their gaze on him. 

Finally letting go, a cold feeling of dread swept over her.

This wasn't going to end well.


	2. Chapter 2

**THE** **SURPRISING AMOUNT** of social contact Vera had with Schlatt within the past twenty-one hours had greatly whittled away at her pride. The amount of texts and strange pictures they'd exchanged really was worrying and frankly, Vera was terrified at the prospect that she was actually finding him nice to talk to. Having a peace treaty with him certainly did not mean swapping 'awooga humina's with each other at two am. Why was he even bothering to talk to her after he said he didn't care in the slightest? The thought made her gut coil around her waist. 

And not to mention that damned handshake ━ what was wrong with her? The way his hand seemed to effortlessly grasp around hers and how her heart was choking in her throat and how her hair was standing on its hind legs ready for... Jesus Christ, she had to have some sort of illness.

Well, nevermind that, the voice in her head chimed dragging her back down to the reality of some street in the middle of New York. By now, the sun had just sunk beyond the array of skyscrapers and she was left in the warm glow of some streetlamp.

"I think I'm gonna be sick..." Wilbur groaned, kicking a can along the pavement. "I mean it you know, I can feel all my breakfast crawling up my throat like its ready to just projectile vomit all over━"

"Oh, Jesus Wilbur! I don't wanna hear all that." Vera complained, though finding herself slightly less snappy than she would be. "If you wanna moan about it, you can go to bloody Adam over there. It's all his fault that we're doing this in the first place."   
  


Wilbur scoffed. "Your fault, you mean."

"No! It ain't my fault, it's all━"  
  


"Let's just blame this all on Colette. _She_ obviously didn't have the decency to keep her mouth shut and stay loyal to her friends. " He huffed. Being honest, Wilbur hadn't exactly been in the best mood since that morning. He'd gotten into some sort of argument with Nikki, then Adam had _this_ suggestion _and_ Colette's shitty betrayal lead to nothing but snarky quips and disapproving sneers all day. "She won't be getting any birthday presents from me, I'm telling you now."

Vera hardly bit back the urge to tell Wilbur to stop spewing shit about her best friend. But Wilbur did have a point.

You see, Vera and Wilbur had once again found themselves trapped in the terrifying pit of doom. It had been the fifteenth time that week that Vera and Wilbur found themselves warning Colette Liu about her stupid, dumbfuck boyfriend Adam Aquino. When they'd both returned from the clean-up effort to find Adam had fucked off to god knows where, neither of them wasted time on complaining to Colette. Granted, it probably wasn't the best idea but hey, that's what friends were for. And for the fifteenth time, Colette had told them to be quiet and stop spreading such nasty rumours. She said they simply didn't know him like she did. Vera had never heard such utter bullshit in her life. An hour later when Adam had finally returned, he'd invited them all out for an 'apology' dinner. Apparently, Colette had told him everything about what the duo had said. Then, to everyone's surprise, Adam actually seemed remorseful! But a dinner? With _Adam_? 

Vera kissed her teeth and took a glance at the man walking a few steps ahead of them. Adam had lead them down the many streets and roads of New York for a good thirty minutes, assuring that he wasn't going to scrape their skin off and eat them and was simply taking them to one of his favourite restaurants. They'd come to a halt in front of a brick-layered shop with a neon sign flashing above. 'Mario's it glowed with, flickering on and off accompanied by a faded Italian flag painted across the window front. 

Adam cleared his throat. "Here we are then!" A stiff smile plastered upon his face, clapping his hands like some demonic child as they finally caught up to him. "I hope ya like Italian food, 'cause did ya know that I'm like actually half-Italian."

"Adam, I swear that you said you were full-Filipino right?" Vera eyed him with suspicion. 

"Oh, yeah yeah... and that too. I'm actually a quarter Korean, a quarter Japanese. As they say in my native tongue of Korean, ' _Gootentag_ '... and I have many _many_ relatives in Sweden. Fact about Sweden, ten in Swedish is ' _Konichiwa_ '." He listed with an unjust smugness as he pulled open the door to the restaurant. "Did I mention that I'm also half-Australian? Like I grew up in the outback an' all." 

Wilbur looked painfully constipated by now. "Woahhh. _Really_? I didn't know you were so... cultured."

"Ya betchya, _cobber._ "

Adam briefly held the door open and Wilbur walked inside. Neither of them waited for Vera ━ she'd managed to get her head jammed between the door as it closed behind her. Two children seated near-by pointed and laughed as she waddled her way past and caught up to Wilbur. The table they'd supposedly found was nearer the back, behind snaking tables and away from the crowd, though the dull hubbub of conversation still flowed around. 

Vera tugged on Wilbur's shoulder, a dark frown on her face. "I can't believe you Wilbur, I literally just got my fucking head stuck between a fuckin... oh _God_."

For a moment, she blinked at the sight with a dropped jaw and eyes bulging out of her skull. That didn't last long before Vera was practically horrified, then panic glazed upon her face. What the fuck was _he_ doing here? Frozen, Vera stared.

"Oh, hello sweetie _._ Glad to see ya finally made it, I saved you a seat right _here_." Jonathan Schlatt, smooth and smug as ever, was already seated at the table beside the exposed brick wall. He patted at the firm seat beside him and caught her gaze. The condescending tone he held only made her panic flicker harder. "Nice to see that ya don't look like a total shit-smear tonight. Ain't that lovely?"

Her mouth opened to speak, grasping for any word that came to mind but all that came out was a trembling stutter. Oh, Jesus Christ! Get yourself together Vera, her mind clapped at her. God forbid that anyone found out how her knees were on the brink of buckling as he said that stupid 'sweetie', or how a chill grazed down her spine and all the way down to her━ 

Vera you fucking dipshit, what the hell is wrong with you! 

"Stop gawking and sit down." Wilbur chortled into her ear, pushing her the inch or so to her seat next to Schlatt.

Sinking down, Vera clasped her hands together and didn't dare look anywhere but her shoes. Her mind was far too busy contemplating what on earth that night had in store for her. No one had learned of their little truce, so would she have to just simply play it up? No, of course, she couldn't. She'd either get scolded by Wilbur or even Schlatt, then Adam would somehow butt-in an offend them all, despite him saying he'd apologise for everything and never do it again.   
  


A waiter soon stopped by and hastily, Vera ordered her meal and reclined back into her silence. No one had spoken properly since they'd sat down. Adam was pathetically trying to start conversation but his attempts were squashed on when everyone decided to just scroll on their phones. Soon, Wilbur uttered something about going to the toilet and disappeared. Vera and Schlatt were left alone when Adam got shot of himself and ran off to the bar to grab a few drinks. 

Schlatt coughed as though to clear his throat and began. "So I━"

"Why. Are. You. Here." She bit out the words, drumming her fingers across the table cloth. 

"Oh, well I sorta invited myself ya see." Schlatt handed her an encouraging smile, reaching over for a piece of bread in the small basket in the middle of the table and buttering it, not once losing her eye. "Don't look at me like that Vee━"

Vera was violently coughing now. When the fuck did he start calling her that? "I-I'm sorry, what? _Vee_?"

"Yeah, _Vee_. Ya got a problem with that? No? Good then. Now as I was sayin' before ya rudely interrupted me," he paused and handed her the buttered bread. "I invited myself after Wilbur told me what had happened. That Adam guy didn't have a problem with it, so why not eh? Besides, we ain't even feuding anymore so I didn't think you'd be actin' like such a piss baby over it. I just wanna see how he insults ya and take some notes."

Vera opened her mouth to argue, but quickly remembered that she no longer could. "Take notes?" She repeated, sheepish. 

He nodded curtly, shoving another piece of bread he'd buttered into his mouth. Muffling through bread, he spoke. "Hmmph. I bought a notepad an' all."

Schlatt actually flashed a damn bright pink notepad with one of those ever-so kissable grins. Not that Vera wanted to kiss his grin. Of course not. No, no... it was just a very nice grin. 

"Let's see then," she swiped the notepad out of his hand and flickered through the numerous pages. Obviously it was pretty cheap, judging by the quality of the paper and how the ink would seep through onto three pages after. And of course because of the 55 cents tag in the corner. Vera could barely hold back her smile at the numerous doodles he'd made, some looking completely nonsensical and some... well, some were just ones of Obama. "Oh my God, you're fucking insane."  
  


"What?"

Amused as ever, she pointed to the drawing of what looked like Schlatt jumping on her grave. "Thank you very much, Jack Schlong. _Really_ appreciate it."

"Gimme that! Ya weren't supposed to━"

"No! You're one great psycho, ain't you━?"

"Shut ya mouth and give it here━ ohhh, _Vera_. Ya fuckin' disphit. You've ripped it!" He gave a final huff and scorned as Vera clutched one half of the doodle. 

Rebuffing him, Vera rolled her eyes and stuffed it into the pocket of her purse. "Not my fault you're a bloody cheapskate."

"Aww, young love." Telling his return, Wilbur chimed, a shit-eating smirk growing on his face and hands planted firmly on Vera's shoulders.

He hummed nonchalantly as he made his way to his side of the table, shooting Vera glances that could only spell that he knew something fishy was happening. Adam too returned and sat down, giving an awkward thumbs up to each person sat around the table. When the waiter finally arrived to take their orders, Vera felt as though her patience was wearing on very very thin ice. Not once, but _twice_ had Schlatt tried to order stuffed mice for Vera (how was that even on the damned menu?) and when they'd all, at last, said what they wanted, Adam dismissed the waiter with a proud 'arigato' before loudly proclaiming how much he _loved_ the Italian language. 

_This idiot needs to shut the fuck up and apologise already then I can fuck off home and take a massive shit on his duvet,_ Vera thought to herself, propping her head up on the table and turning her gaze over to Schlatt. Nothing much had changed since the day before, only that the sharp stubble emerging on his face curled with the shadow of a light moustache. Schlatt sported his ruddy Harvard jumper and sweatpants and his stupid bloody Timbs had made its not-so-glorious return ━ he still hadn't gotten rid of her nosebleed stain. 

Why was that bloody thing still there? Why hadn't Schlatt bothered to even attempt to clean it off? Sure, he was a bit of a lazy bastard and probably spent a majority of his time bawling over James Charles' bare ass, but surely that wouldn't distract him from cleaning it off. What the fuck was wrong with him? What the fuck was wrong with Vera for that matter? Why was she even thinking about this? Oh God, she must've gone insane, or maybe Adam slipped some LSD into her drink and━

Wilbur kicked her shin from under the table and side-eyed over to Adam. " Oi, Vera..."

Vera frowned before quickly realising that Jesus Christ, Adam was about to bloody apologise. Better yet, Adam was about to apologise in public, slightly tipsy from a single glass of wine and still feigning complete innocence. 

Adam clinked his glass upon a knife, as though he was making some fancy speech to Obama. "Thanks for ya attention Vera... Now, I know that over the past few days, there has been a lot of kinda tension I would say, between us." He began, exchanging glances between Wilbur and Vera as Schlatt appeared to have set his phone up against a plate and was _filming._ "This kinda came as a shock to me after my dear pumpkin pie told me of ya complaints of my behaviour. Honestly, kinda bitchy move Vera talkin' about me (one of ya best pals) like that behind my back, but ya know... look anyway, I jus' wanted to apologise deeply from the bottom of my warm and very large and accommodatin' heart that I am very, very━" Adam paused, squinting down to his lap as though he was reading the goddamn speech off of his phone notes. "Sorry for bein' mean to ya and uh, actin', incorporated━ no, no, that's not right. Wait a goddamn minute..."  
  


Something pink had risen on Schlatt's cheeks as he tried his best to repress his snorts. Wilbur, on the other hand, looked as though he craved death and frankly, Vera had to agree. This was quite possibly the absolute worst apology she'd ever seen, and she was a goddamn Youtuber for crying out loud. Shane Dawson probably could've done better than this car crash of a speech and he was a bleeding cat shagger. 

"Vee, sweetie, I hope ya know you're sayin' that out loud..." Schlatt leaned into her ear, his breath sharply dragging against the nape of her neck.

Vera bristled, swallowing harshly. "O-oh, for fucksake, can you just shut up already? You are irrelevant right now."

"Suit yourself..."

The current most hated person in New York cleared his throat and placed his phone onto the table, everyone finally getting a good view of whatever he'd put together. Oh, dear God, Colette had made this apology! The nerve of that scheming little━

"Ah right, here it is. I am sorry for actin' inappropriately and calling Vera a supposed 'fat bitch with saggy tits' and for sayin' that Wilbur needed a haircut, oh yeah and that his music was like listenin' to my hot spicy, squelching diarrhoea after eatin' from the dodgy Chinese restaurant." Adam listed off nonchalantly. An audible gasp escaped Wilbur's lips, brows furrowing together as Vera's grip on the butter knife grew harsher. Clearly, neither of them had been informed of _this_. "And, uh, callin' my best bud Schlatt homeless ━ sorry 'bout that old sport."

A shit-eating grin swiped across Schlatt's face. He reclined into his seat and nodded along, shrugging at this. "No worries, ya one of my best friends Adam."  
  


Vera's mouth was bobbing open like a goldfish, sputtering for any sort of coherent word, but all that came out was a small whimper. 

"Look, do I get ya forgiveness or not? All I want is to be best pals again."

She blinked back in sheer disbelief. A series of what-the-fuck's trained around her head as she tried her best to contain every insult she could possibly think of from slipping out. Surely, he couldn't have believed that after whatever the fuck that was that they'd ever possibly forgive him. But then again, this was all for Colette. If Vera didn't forgive Adam (even if it was a lie) Colette would surely decapitate her or worse, burn all her West End Playbills.

Vera swallowed harshly, taking a deep and long intake of breath as everyone watched in anticipation. It seemed that Wilbur had just completely frozen up and was suspended in distress. "Uhm, well, yeah I sup━"

Adam clicked his tongue. "I just want to say, Vera, I thank you so much for even listenin' to my speech and forgivin' me. Ya always never listen no one 'cause ya always act like a bitch and ya never respect me. I'm glad ya finally gained the confidence to hear me out and see that I am right. Honestly, ya should've done that from the get-go and taken those damn laxatives. Ya have put on so much fuckin' weight that honestly I wouldn't be surprised if people thought ya were ready to blast triplets outta ya saggy hole... and Wilbur, thanks for even considerin' this. I know how hard it is for ya to get ya head outta ya pretentious 'lil ass. Oh, yeah, speakin' of, I think that maybe ya should consider gettin' vocal lessons or ya know songwriting lessons, or guitar lessons or jus' give up completely. Like no hate my brother, but ya music jig really ain't never gonna work if ya about as talented as my third asshole pube, ya know. Jus' had to break it to ya."

A deadly silence sliced the throats of the trio, all staring in bewilderment and it was clear Wilbur was _thisclose_ into slapping the kidneys out of Adam's asshole and throwing the man into the depths of space. Vera had just about had it. How dare he? How dare this little pubic-haired motherfucker have the goddamned audacity to say━

"By the way Schlatt, I am so glad that ya have accompanied and supported me tonight." Adam tenderly stroked the back of Schlatt's hand, only making the violent twisting thorning into her lungs prick harder. "But I gotta say, don't ya think that ya should be a tad nicer to everyone around you? Like I dunno 'bout what y'all think, but honestly, I think that ya one of the rudest people I've ever met. Like have ya seen how ya treat poor Vera over 'ere? Seriously I ain't ever seen anythin' more nastier before, ya so rude. I get why ya both enemies now, Jesus. And really, I don't think that ya should be sproutin' shit 'bout someone else when ya one of the scrawniest people I've ever seen, I've seen stray cats in better shape than you... and seriously, what is wrong with ya face? Ya have acne scars and spots and disgustin' little freckles everywhere, it's actually kinda weird. But Schlatt since ya my best friend, I'm willin' to lend ya my two hundred dollar face cream to take care of your... _defects_. I know with a poor 'lil job as yours, this is kinda a luxury. Oh, and no need to pay for the meal either. I know most of ya can hardly scrounge together the money to pay for bills and whatnot."

Schlatt had slumped over, looking smaller than Vera had ever seen. "I hope you know I have a gun, Adam. A literal fuckin' gun. In my apartment five minutes away."  
  


"Oh yes, I know... must've been pretty cheap, assuming you didn't steal it?"

The disgusting scratching of her infuriation itched up her throat, burning with a fire as deep as hell and a passion that swelled with a deep hunger, desperate for destruction. It swallowed her whole. Vera could hardly breathe under the pressure erupting in her chest, bubbling like a steering kettle, whistling with a deafening screech. She'd had it. Enough was enough. Nothing else could battle her pain for revenge. 

Her neck, now blotched in patches of red, left no space for it not to travel up to her face. With a certain hoarseness and such an intense fury, her wrathful tone sliced through the air like an axe slashing its way through a block of ice. "What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck must go through your deranged and shitty thinking head to say that to him? To say that to any of us? Who the fuck do you think you are? The bloody queen!? You are the most despicable, disgusting, shithead of a person. I have never loathed anyone more deeper than you, and that's coming from the person who has to put up with him half the time," Vera gestured vaguely to Schlatt. "I want to see your guts sprawled across this table as I roast them on a spike along with your intestines and head. You are nothing. You are an insufferable little arsecunt who has no care for any one, not even yourself judging by your wankstain of a haircut. You're the biggest dumbfuck of a person I've ever seen, you're literally a waste of a wank. You should've been flushed down the toilet along with anyone else's respect for you. What the fuck is wrong with you!? I can't believe I've managed to fucking tolerate you for this long! I hate you. I fucking despise you. I hope you get hit by a tank and get eaten by a rat. I hope one day I can choke you on those gummy laxatives and you drown you in a cesspool of your own shit. Your car crash of an apology can go get fucked by a pig. You bet your goddamn ass none of us will ever accept your malicious 'sorries'. Go fuck yourself, Adam, you scumlord piece of shit."

Silence. A deafening and sharp silence waved across the entire restaurant. The jolly Italian music now playing That's Amore was the only thing emitting noise, other than the clatter of cutlery and a small cheer from someone in the corner. Gobsmacked and flushing with unmeasurable violent rage, Adam sputtered for any sort of back up. Wilbur was quietly buttering a piece of bread, shooting an encouraging grin over to Vera as he slowly nodded his head and Schlatt... well, Schlatt not only held the brightest disposition but sat lounging in his chair, arms folded and with the most delightful grin Vera had ever seen as they locked eyes in a moment of indescribable bliss. If she wasn't blinded by her anger, then Vera surely could've mistaken that little beam for one that said 'that's my girl'.

Stammering with eyebrows so harshly knitted together, Adam spoke. "I - I... what the hell Vera? I thought we were fuckin' pals. Ya really gonna try and embarrass me, quite obviously ya superior, in public. Damn, ya have some gall. Schlatt, back me up 'ere. Are ya really gonna let this whore speak to me like this? We're in this together, are we not?"

Schlatt clearly was biting back his laughter. "Adam... you're a fuckin' asshat."

"I second that! Jesus, that was one hell of a speech. Vera, I commend you." Wilbur raised his glass of wine up to her before chugging it down and wiping his mouth, satisfied. The rest of the restaurant simply _stared_ in disbelief. 

"I - I... I dunno what to say to ya. To say to any of ya." Adam uttered, gaze as dark as the expression on his face. 

Vera clapped to her feet, swung back Adam's wine and slammed it on the table with all the rage she could handle. "Well, I sure as fuck have something to say to you. Hasta la vista, baby. You won't be seeing me ever again."

And with a dramatic flourish from her purse and the painful wail of the chair being slid out underneath her, Vera swept out of the restaurant, head towering with pride and with a certain parade of elegance following her step. Schlatt broke into applause, filled with esteeming amusement. No one else seemed to bother joining in other than Wilbur, who looked as though he was ready to throw a drink into Adam's face. The look now scraping across Adam's pitiful complexion was comparable to the one Vera held the first time she'd ever received those damn laxatives. The two only men at the table were booming with undoubtable glee. 

"Yeah, hasta la fucking vista you b-tec Harry Styles. You deserved that." Like so, Wilbur also walked out, taking care in kicking Adam's seat as he left.

Only Schlatt was left at the table by now. He cleared his throat, rose to his feet and slapped his napkin onto the table. He took a final huff of air, shooting him the middle-finger with just smugness, and simply smiled.

"Get cucked Adam." Then left.

Wilbur and Schlatt gathered outside, thumping each other with high-fives before going to find Vera who appeared to be nowhere in sight. After only a couple of minutes searching, they'd found her stood beside a giant dumpster and on the phone to someone. Instead of rejoicing as Vera probably should have, she seemed to be shouting down the phone to someone else and was stomping her foot like a toddler having a fit.

Rushing over to hear what happened, Schlatt felt his gut churn at the sight ━ Vera was on the verge of tears. 


	3. Chapter 3

**AT PRECISELY ELEVEN** o'clock that night, Vera stood in the doorway of Schlatt's apartment. A particular frown spread across her face. She could hardly believe the absolute cock-stain of a night she'd had to endure, and that was coming from someone who had the pleasure of sicking up in a toilet with James bloody Charles. Things had gotten so bad that Vera had yet to have spoken a word since, well, since she had her epic showdown with not only Adam Aquino, but Colette Liu herself. That was something Schlatt had felt all-too uneasy about on their trek to his flat ━ it was scary how quiet she'd been.

Vera's face flushed hotly at the recollection of the past hour or so. 

She'd found herself standing beside a dumpster after Vera decided it was best to not continue storming away from the restaurant. For a sweet moment or so, she'd relished in victory and knew that she'd most likely and up drinking the night away and partying as she rightfully should have. But that only lasted until Vera had heard the familiar chime of a Discord call erupting from her purse. Appearing in bold letters was Colette's name and her heart collapsed into her gut. The next five minutes or so was spent having an absolute shit-storm of an argument with her supposed best friend. Schlatt and Wilbur, who'd finally found her, only watched and stared in disbelief, mouths gaping open at such a debacle. 

"Jesus Christ, Col! Just fucking listen to me for once!" Vera's voice had rung out amongst the trio, coarse and very much so on edge. And after ensued a long string of curses from Colette over the phone. "Oh for fucksake Colette! That shitstain is fucking manipulating you! Are you really that fucking thick that you can't see it!? God, you need to━ oh, you're taking the fucking piss! You're telling _ME_ to calm down?" She'd drawled out a scoff and thumped her fist against the hunk of metal. "Jesus Christ... I - I'm fucking losing my mind over here. Even Elijah knows that Adam is an absolute wasteman and he's about the most oblivious person on the planet!"

Wilbur had tried to intervene by that point. He had lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, telling Vera to get off the phone and that Colette wasn't worth her time. Obviously not exactly giving a fuck, Vera had swatted his hand away and continued on her public row. If this had been London, Vera would've probably been shanked by a roadman by then for causing such a ruckus, but thankfully this was New York.

"No! Vera yeh a right fat liar, exactly like Wilbur. I know what yeh've done to poor Adam! Yeh have bullied and harassed him yeh entire stay, treated him like a piece of dog shite and acted like yeh had a right big stick up yeh arse!" Colette had sneered through the phone, saying all this as if she was an all-seeing-eye. "Both yerself and Wilbur done so. Yeh have been feedin' me lies about poor Adam, and tryin' to feck up my relationship 'cause yeh jealous. I know yeh are. Yeh've been actin' like a miserable cow for god knows how long 'cause yeh jealous and _lonely_."

Vera had swallowed, hard. Stammering away as her face tensed with an ungodly amount of might, she had tried her best to compose herself. Vera was not one for crying. Especially in front of Wilbur or god forbid, Schlatt of all sodding people. "Fucking hell. Why won't you just listen to me! Why do you trust some fucker you've known for like what, six months? I'm your best fucking friend, we've known each other for so damn long! Please! You've never even met Adam, for crying out loud! How do you know he isn't a fucking psychopath!? Wilbur literally made a song about it, you - you... God! Please Col, you've gotta━"

" _Enough_. I don't wanna hear any of yeh fuckin' bullcrap." The latter had snapped, taking a brief pause to seemingly conduct herself and twisting into a cold voice. "Look. I think it's best tha' we take a break from talkin' to each other, alrigh'?"  
  


"W-what?" Ver had deadpanned, bristling into nothing but a statue of herself. "Now hold on, are you seriously ending our fucking friendship over an asshole of a man? You're taking the fucking piss Col. Seriously. You can't just do that."

A tired and trialled exhale had rung from the speakers. "I-I'm not endin' our friendship, alrigh'?" Colette said in the least sincere way imaginable. "Jus' takin' a break. I think it's best yeh don't contact me for a while. Tha' is all I have to say to yeh Vera. Goodnight."

Vera did not want to think about it any longer. She didn't want to even remember what happened that night - excluding her wrath on Adam - until she was knocking pridefully on death's door. She simply tipped her chin up, feigning some sort of aloofness to disguise herself, and clenched her jaw.

By this point, Schlatt had stopped fiddling with the countless amount of keys he carried with him (Vera assumed at least one of them lead to where he kept his red room of weapons, like his steel-caps and swiss army knife) and yanked the door open with a rejoiceful huff. Being honest, Vera felt far too awkward to even be within ten billion miles of his apartment, let alone step inside and stay the bloody night there. She just hoped he had some sort of inflatable bed for her to sleep on and that it wouldn't come to the worst option of one bed to share between the three. Perhaps if James Charles was there, she could've enjoyed that imaginary situation slightly better. 

Wilbur and Vera were lead in and eyeing the place up for any sort of blunt object the host could kill her with, she gave a steady exhale. Unless Schlatt was planning to bludgeon her to death with a Wii-remote, Vera supposed she was safe. For now, at least.

His flat was not at all what Vera had imagined. She'd expected something dark, creepy and smelling vaguely of stale ribs and with a hoard of flies buzzing around an overflowing bin in the kitchen. But Schlatt's place was warm and quite cosy with a little kitchenette split into an open space with the living room facing it. He had a rather old and dated TV opposing the two-seater sofa and for decoration, Schlatt had a rather concerning amount of house plants mixed in with random awards sprawled across the wall. One specifically was something for baseball and next to it was a picture of grinning baby-Schlatt, missing a tooth and holding up a trophy with pride. It was all strangely endearing and she was glad that it was not the shithole she'd expected. 

"Well, this is uh," Schlatt rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly bashful. "It ain't much but it's home, ya know."

Wilbur chuckled and shook his shoulder. "Better than our shit-heap in London. Vera's room is the worst, there's stale Redbull cans everywhere and she leaves all her dirty laundry all over the place. Did you know I found one of her sweaty, disgusting socks hanging from my bedroom curtain once?"

"Don't think you could expect any better, Wilbur." He snorted. Vera gave a faint middle-finger to the pair of them, which seemed to lighten the mood ever-so-slightly. It settled the uncomfortable quelch in Schlatt's gut at least, knowing that she wasn't going to be all stiff-constipated shit mode for the rest of her stay. "Right, yeah, gotta show ya where you'll be sleepin'. Follow me." Schlatt began his walk down some dodgy-looking steps to what she presumed was a basement.

Vera was very much so dubious about this and lingered in the tiny entrance hallway for a little longer before deciding she was being entirely stupid. Why on earth would Schlatt have a dungeon in his home in New York? Besides, she needed to put a stop to all this 'Schlatt is one hundred per cent going to smother me to death' thought, if they were ever going to be _civil_.

The basement was all too familiar. Painted with white walls, dark wooded floors, a big TV and his recording set-up pressed against a wooded panel that was decorated with a pink neon sign. The room smelt faintly of Schlatt's aftershave (something Vera definitely, absolutely wasn't sniffing in very quickly) and barbeque ribs. Baby Yuto sat loyally on a drawer, along with a Schlatt plushie and his other set of Timberlands. In true Schlatt nature, he'd plastered a giant American flag on that drawer and beside it was the fucking Pope cardboard cut out. She nearly pissed herself in fear at _that_.

Vera had seen all it a billion times before, whether that be in his videos or streams or that one time he'd called her in the middle of the night only to show her a giant sign on his whiteboard that said 'DUMB FUCKING BROAD'. He'd even kindly added sparkles and drawn a lovely little flower beside that sign. She'd be lying if she hadn't found that a tiny bit funny ━ it made her think of the drawing Schlatt had made of him dancing on her grave. Why on earth had he been so protective of that specific drawing anyway? 

Well, nevermind that, Vera's head chimed. Right now, she was wondering where on earth Schlatt's bed was. She'd presumed that _this_ was his bedroom from the get-go. So where on earth was his bed? Did he sleep on the floor? Or in a groggy bathtub, like the psycho he was?

She cleared her throat and prepared herself to speak. She hoped no one would sense the slight rough tone that was most likely the after-effects of nearly bawling. "Uh, ahem. Erm, Schlatt, where the hell is your bed?"

He looked almost surprised at her voice. Schlatt perked up. "Right there." He pointed to the sofa facing the TV.

Oh, that was really sad. He slept on a sofa!? That was just super depressing. Jesus Christ. This meant her and Wilbur would definitely be sleeping on the floor! The floor that Schlatt's absurdly large feet had gone across, and his Timbs, and most likely his ass after an attempt at twerking for his OnlyFans went wrong. 

"Oh, now don't look like that Vera, ya dumb broad. It's a _sofa_ bed. You know, a bed that you fold out from a━"

"Alright, alright. I know what a bloody sofa bed is Schlatt, do I look like Adam to you?"

Schlatt shrugged, a grin playing at his lips. "Nah, you're a better catch than he is, I'd say."  
  


Wilbur was sputtering and choking as though the gummy laxatives had just throttled out of his nose, muttering something along the lines of 'oh my God, oh my God, it's happening, what the fuck'. Paralyzed in fear and really trying to repress the furious blush of pure rage threatening to splatter onto her face, she tried her best to forget that ever happened and move on. Of course, the fucking dipshit was joking, but what level of insanity did he have to be on to say that around Wilbur of all sodding people!? 

"S-so. Moving on." She bit out. Vera was sure not to cause any more arguments with Schlatt and his stupidly smug face. "Where is _our_ sleeping... thing?"

He picked at his fingernails. "Well, the bed can fit two people, eh, kinda... I mean, me and Austin managed to squeeze our way in there, and he has a big ass so━" Vera bristled at the thought that Schlatt had shared a fucking bed with Austin, the fucker who'd manipulated the Love or Host so that Schlatt won. "━I suppose it'll work. There's only one bed, obviously so... Look, I mean, if ya both desperate not to sleep here there's always the sofa upstairs. But that fuckin' stinks like farts 'cause one time Ted came over with some dodgy food from Penn Station and holy fuckin' shit! It was fart central and that fuckin' man stunk up this place for weeks! And like, uh, sometimes ya can hear my stupid fuckin' neighbour having some hardcore sex from there at really weird hours of the day." Schlatt then went on to make imitations of whatever the fuck his neighbours were doing. "So I wouldn't recommend that, at all, just sayin'. But I got a sleepin' bag so one of you can sleep on the floor down here. 'Cause at least down here ya can't hear the leaky shower goin' off at random times. Ah, speakin' of, the toilet isn't workin' properly right now, so if it ever starts sprayin' piss water at ya, just run away and flush it later."

Vera's mind had stopped working after 'only one bed'. She didn't listen to whatever waffle Schlatt had to say, because seriously why on earth was he getting so worked up over the one-bed thing. She didn't want to sound ungrateful but Jesus Christ, how on earth was she supposed to survive with that!? Obviously _she_ wouldn't be the one in the bed, but even so, Wilbur would probably try and ducktape her down to it if it meant a chance that his dream team could sleep together. 

"Jesus take the fucking wheel..."

"Oh?" Wilbur had leaned into her ear and she desperately tried to ignore the disgustingly wide grin plastered upon his face. "You know what this means don't you Vera?"  
  


Well, it meant that after a good five minutes of back and forth arguing, Vera had managed to coerce Wilbur into sharing the bed with Schlatt, while she took the sleeping bag on the floor. After a meal of hot-pockets (what an experience that was, as Schlatt spent that time whispering seductively to each other) they'd decided to get some fucking sleep after the day they'd had and that in the morning they'd take the dreadful trip to Adam's place to fetch their luggage. Unfortunately, they couldn't afford to stay anywhere other than Schlatt's place for the remainder of their stay. So Vera supposed she was stuck with all of that for now. 

"Vee, my guy, if ya fuckin' snore I _will_ show you why my name is Mr Pillow." He'd said, looking down at her from his bed as hopped into bed with Wilbur at his side. She supposed that was the best Schlatt could give as a goodnight. 

Vera had rolled her eyes and flipped him off. "Yeah, good riddance. Go smother yourself to death, would you?"

He'd gave a gentle chuckle. "Good night to you too, wee-wee-vee-pee."

"You're so fucking weird, Schlatt."

And like so, he'd flicked off the warm lamp and Vera heard the rustling of sheets and something that sounded like Wilbur blowing Schlatt a kiss goodnight and soon everything turned into a peaceful quietness of Schlatt, that fucker, snoring softly.

Unlike the duo who from what she could tell in the darkness were cuddling in their sleep, Vera's night was not great in the slightest. With her head lofted up on a stack of Schlatt's hoodies (because of course, he had no spare pillows) she spent the remainder of the night tossing and turning and dwelling over the events that happened that night. Fuck. It was unavoidable, she supposed. Boy, were the regrets sinking in deep and it only drove her little madder by each passing second. She really shouldn't have been thinking about it, or even been sad over the abrupt end to it all. Colette was being an idiot and had listened to Adam of all sodding people and Vera, for once, was right about it all. 

She tried to hide her sniffle in the seams of one of Schlatt's hoodies she wore as pyjama attire. Her and Wilbur were all matching in Schlatt's massive array of hoodies and sweatpants. Vera simply received a massive whiff of Schlatt's after-shave in return after her attempt to whisk away the sadness and grumbled. She most certainly didn't spend the rest of the night subconsciously rubbing her nose with the sleeve of the giant material. 

Over the next two or so days, the three of them had fallen into a lovely little routine. Wilbur would wake up first, followed by Schlatt, who'd then wake up Vera by standing over ominously and whispering 'wake up bitch'. Vera would make some sort of burnt breakfast, they'd spend the day playing video games and Schlatt would have an entire bitch fit every time Vera would beat him in WiiSports bowling. They'd gone out for pizza and ice cream for dinner, one of which ended badly ━ Wilbur had dropped his ice cream on Schlatt's Timbs and Schlatt had kicked it off and a rat skidded from around the corner, scooping up every single last drop. Vera had shit herself at that and spent the rest of the night lingering dangerously close to Schlatt's side. Schlatt remained uncharacteristically bright for the rest of the night, despite his Timberlands being ruined. 

Then there was the dreaded trek to fetch their suitcases, which went surprisingly swimmingly, all things considered. Adam did not dare speak a word and only watched with them with a sharp stink eye and a face that told Vera she'd probably be dead by nightfall. As they dragged their suitcases out from his shithole, Schlatt rolled both of Vera's suitcases over the bare stupidly big toes Adam had, and Wilbur took delight and slamming into Adam _accidentally_ and also dragging his suitcase over his feet. When Adam's door had slapped shut, Vera caught a small glimpse at the pool of blood surrounding Adam's fat toes. 

Despite everything, Vera would admit that things had gone fairly well. It had all taken her mind off her dreaded return to England, and the fact that she was now practically living with Schlatt like some sad rat-squatter, and whatever the fuck happened with Adam and Colette. Or at least, it _had_.

Vera found herself slouched on top of the folded sofa bed, eye switching tediously between her phone and the man sitting at his desk, typing away and letting out the occasional grunt. Only the two of them, seeing as Wilbur had gone out to go and collect their takeaway dinner. It was strangely comforting to be alone with Schlatt, so casually and with no outside imbalance of distraction. Oddly domestic in the way that if things stayed so easy, she could almost find herself falling into the trap of adoring this sort of presence. 

She scrolled through her whirlpool of a Twitter timeline, sneaking smiles at the glimpses of the pictures that had come out from Carson's birthday, and whatever argument Schlatt had gotten into _again_. It had all been fun and games until her eyes clapped upon _that_ damn tweet. Vera's stomach lurched.

"Oh, for fucksake..."

Some random stan account had clocked that Vera and Colette were no longer following each other, and that was followed by an entire thread of showing Vera's lack of activity and Colette tweeting about 'fake friends', and then others had the audacity theorize what could've possibly happened that could've caused _this_. Then to tip to the wreck of the iceberg, some fucker had decided to start #RevagranIsOverParty after coming to the conclusion that Vera had somehow turned into some sort of _homewrecker_. 

Her brows grazed sharply together, scorning. Something hot and prickly stabbed against her eyes and Vera swallowed back the threat of tears. She was not going to cry. If she'd manage to resist it for two days, she most certainly wasn't breaking that now. So why did it only seem to ache more? What kind of fuckery was this? 

It seemed that Schlatt had stopped working by this point. He'd spun around in his tattered desk chair and was idly dragging himself back and forth between the door and his plushie. He was staring. She could tell. Whatever the reason he'd decided to observe, it only made her chest bundle into an even exhausting pressure. 

Schlatt cleared his throat and broke the silence. "Uh, hey Vee."  
  


Vera curbed back the hoarseness threatening to crawl into her voice. No. Definitely not. She couldn't. "H-hey."

A pause. 

"Are... are..." Schlatt seemed uncertain to continue and bobbed his mouth open, silently. He looked at the wall, then his socks, then finally Vera once more. "Are you... are you okay, Vee?"

Oh, God. Oh, shit. Oh, _fuck_. Brick by brick, Schlatt had finally fucking managed to break her. How on earth the fucker had managed to do so, she'd never know. The overwhelming feeling to crumble devoured her whole and by the time Schlatt had registered what the fuck was happening, Vera had been swallowed into a wreck. No more biting back her stupid, stupid feelings. Vera was raw and bawling and feeling like a sod and a child and fucking _crying_ with Jonathan Schlatt as the delightful spectator. 

For a moment, Schlatt was frozen and clueless. He pondered whether he should simply walk out and leave her. But he wasn't that much of an arsehole. It was just the sharp stinging in his chest when he saw her cry. This was absolutely dreadful. And so, he crossed the space between them and settled beside her. 

"Hey, hey, hey... Vee, Vera, no, no don't cry. God, don't cry. I - uh... God. Jesus, Vee. What's wrong? You can tell me, ya know..." He spoke gently. He was never a good shoulder to cry on, especially when it came to women, or _Vera_. So he did the best thing he could and _listened_.

Vera sputtered softly, choking over her babbles of thoughts. It was a rather big mess of words, but frankly, Vera really couldn't give a shit if she made sense or not. She just needed something. Someone to open up to, even if it was Jonathan sodding Schlatt. And so, after countless 'Oh, God, I'm a fucking dipshit', and 'I can't fucking believe this is my life', and 'I fucking hate Adam, that fucking wankstain', and 'Fucking hell, I can't believe I'm crying over _this_ ', Vera was still crying. And heaving. And feeling like a prat. But even so, Schlatt's mere company settled the soreness in her chest.

"God, I'm such a fucking dipshit..." Vera could hardly bring herself to say anything more. 

Schlatt took a sharp inhale. He raised his arm and... after a moments thought, he carefully placed a hand against her shivering back. No matter how awkwardly he patted her back, it did not break his soft voice. "H-hey, now Vera... you ain't that much of a dumb broad, alright? I-I mean... you make one fuckin' _mean_ breakfast." He chuckled stiffly. "Listen, alright? Everythin' might seem kinda shitty but uh, ya know what they say, it gets better. It's okay... And fuck that fucker you were arguing with, she can go get cucked."

Even his shitty jokes couldn't crack a small smile out of her. He didn't know what to do. Neither of them did. It was all so tense and strange and yet so oddly endearing and comforting and an _absolute_ mess. Maybe it was the tinge of awkwardness or the sheer tenderness of the moment that beckoned Schlatt to pull such a stunt, either way, it didn't matter. He was just trying to be nice and considerate despite everything. 

"Look, do you want a hug, Vee?"

She sputtered for a moment, catching his gaze. "I - uhm - I..." Vera blinked in disbelief. Panic. Absolute panic. Panic that was masked by her tears, thank fucking God. He'd flattened her wall like Bob the fucking Builder. "Y-yeah."  
  


Vera leaned into him, equally guilty and grateful for the simple comfort Schaltt’s offering. Vera was faintly surprised at how eagerly she accepted it. And when her skin met his, it took everything within her to not melt into his touch entirely. Even knowing that Schlatt could probably feel the thudding of her heart in her throat and how she stiffened slightly when he slung one arm around her back, it didn't affect how she could feel herself easing into his chest. His breath was tickling against her earlobe and the rise and fall of his chest against his own made something coil inside her. Distantly, Vera thought that this probably should've been awkward and downright awful. But it wasn't. It was _nice_ , and so reassuring to have another body pressed warm against her own. Something she couldn't quite place bubbled into her chest. All it told her that this was far too good for her own damn good. But it was oh-so stirring and peaceful. And just so... so... _pleasant_.

The tender silence that rested between them did not last long. 

As only seconds later, there was the sound of someone banging their way down the stairs and a slightly muffled 'POGCHAMP' and━

Wilbur burst through the door, gleaming with a giant bag of food in his grasp. It took him a moment to clock where on earth Schlatt and Vera were. And when he finally saw them, it was as though someone had bonked him in the head and Wilbur had lost all knowledge on how to even breathe nor think correctly. He blinked at Vera and Schlatt. Vera and Schlatt blinked back. His mouth gaped open. The bag of food clattered to the floor. Wilbur's eyebrow was twitching. And finally, after a deathly long silence, Wilbur cleared his throat, licked his lips and finally said something. 

"Right, what's all this about then?"

Oh, Vera would never, _ever_ hear the end of _this_.


	5. Chapter 5

**BEING TRUTHFULLY HONEST** , Vera had grown rather fond of Schlatt. Sort of in the way she could see them actually moving past their differences and becoming, well... _friends_. Though she'd treaded carefully around that topic, feeling as though it was explosive diarrhoea waiting to happen, now Vera could actually pluck up the courage to say that yes, maybe her and Schlatt were actually friends. Though not officially. But it was something nice to think about.

It was something to distract her from her wreck of a social life, and how she and Wilbur had received a fucking eviction notice through a dodgy email, and the looming thought of a probably disastrous family reunion - that was something she'd decided not to mention until it was too late, and Wilbur wouldn't force her to go to.

Though deciding to go on a fucking camping trip with Schlatt, Wilbur, Ted and god-knows who else certainly didn't sound like the best distraction. Her alone with nature. Her alone with nature and the eery silence of wilderness. Her alone with her thoughts? A complete butt-fuck of an idea. Which was exactly why Vera now sat at the back of Ted's rental van, uncomfortably squished up against Schlatt and a mountain of camping gear and what appeared to be a large axe, terribly wrapped up. 

"...I think I'm gonna fart again, Vee," Schlatt whispered into her ear, far too ominously for Vera's liking.

She sharply inhaled. Vera was practically hanging on the last thread of her dwindling sanity. "You really don't need to announce it- oh, Christ on a bike!" 

Sputtering and choking, Vera tried as best she could to waft away the scent without impaling herself on the axe. No one else bothered to pay attention - Wilbur was knocked out cold and snoring against a window, Cooper was now slumped against the dashboard, looking grave and miserable and Ted had his grip firm on the steering wheel. Needless to say, neither of the four were having a particularly good time.

"I mean, I did try to warn ya."

"Ah, yes, the best fucking warning imaginable. Farting into my face. Brilliant technique Schlatt, really." She drawled sarcastically, beginning to lean back on the giant pile of camping gear before quickly realising there was a bloody _axe_.

Schlatt merely snorted, completely nonchalant as he drew small pictures onto the steamed-up windows. 

It was quite nice. All of those small exchanges she'd have with him, even if it was about his god-awful body gasses. And the silence that would follow seemed all the more comforting and better to sit in each time they would come around, no strange awkwardness or dodgy glances. Just familiarity and a sense that Vera was perhaps enjoying all of this a lot more than she'd anticipated.

Though to say that the feeling was mutual would be an overstatement - Vera honestly thought she was nothing but a nuisance Schaltt had to put up with, it wasn't like he actually cared that much for her, or if he considered her anything more than someone who happened to be around. 

"Ted, we better be there soon or I swear I will-"

"Cooper, ask that question one more time and you can hitchhike the next forty-nine minutes."

Ah, only forty-nine minutes of sitting next to Schlatt left. Thigh pressed against hers, and breathing in what appeared to be in sync. And when forty-minutes had passed and they seemed to still be in the middle of fuck-all-nowhere, Schlatt had cleared his throat after a few minutes, meaning to start some sort of conversation.

"So, Vee, what are your plans when you get back to England?" He asked in a hushed voice, not noticing the sudden tension in her brow. "Gonna eat some crumpets with the Queen's fuckin' corgi's or somethin'...? Maybe try and make some decent videos for once... ones that feature yours truly perhaps?"

Vera picked at her nails, answering back in a similar tone. "I - well... I'll find a new flat, help Wilbur move to Brighton with his mates and-"

"That's not what I meant, and ya know it. What the fuck are you gonna do about that french fucker Colette?" Schlatt perked up, eyeing Vera. 

She sighed. "I've sorted that..." she took Schlatt's quirked brow as a sign that it was not a decent answer. "By blocking her on everything and muting every mention of her and making sure I never contact her again. I just want to forget all about it y'know? I've missed my chance to blow her up and piss on the ashes, so I... well, yeah. That's about it. And besides, why the fuck would you care?" 

He scoffed, sounding as though she'd just asked as though how many nose-hairs he had. "Because I'm your friend, Vee."

Vera bristled, barely retaining her frantic sputter. "Ah."

"Problem?"

"No."

"Good." He whipped out his phone. "Now back to what I was saying before you decided to have a fuckin' throat seizure... you probably need to sort out," he flicked through his gallery, " _this_."

Vera squinted at the phone. She died. Then found herself reincarnated. And died again. All within a matter of about three or so seconds. "What the fucking shit balls, what...?" There, gleaming back at her, was a screenshot of Colette's Instagram, showing a picture of her, Elijah and... oh dear God, someone Vera most definitely did not want to see, along with the caption 'With my real best buddies, love you all so much, can't wait for this guy's wedding'. 

Schlatt pointed a finger over to the man with his arms around Colette's shoulders. "That's ya brother, I presume, right? Same last name, same weird lookin' teeth... same devious look in his eyes."

She swallowed. _Her own brother_. "Yep."

"And?"

It took a few swift moments for Vera to process _everything._ Schlatt declaring he was her friend, Colette's take over of her brother and Elijah, the most indirect way possible to announce 'hey, I hate you and I have now licked your brother's shoes' and well... _God_. Her mind felt like it was imploding. And when she thought of the repercussions of Colette fiddling in Vera's fucking trainwreck of a family... goddamn, was she absolutely fucked over.

"I - Oh God... Jesus take the bloody wheel. I - well..." Vera took a deep and steady breath, trying to calm herself down under the pressure of the van going over road bumps and this catastrophe. "I'm... I am not gonna do shit about shit, alright? I don't want to get involved. If she wants to dump me for fuckin' Adam and become bumchums with my fucking brother, whom she once fucking loathed, I ain't gonna stop her."  
  


"Now that's just ridiculous, Vee. What kinda idiot are ya to let this fuckin shit slide?" He leaned into her, furrowing his brows and not breaking eye contact. 

"I am not a fucking idiot Schlatt. I have no fucking reason to meddle in this."

"But you do! I mean, Jesus Vee, she made you fuckin' cry and has been doing all this whack shit to probably try and turn everyone against you-"

"And, what about it!?" She hissed feverishly, barely managing to keep her voice down as the van began to slow down. "Why are you sticking your nose in something that you should be keeping your big fat gob out of in the first place?" 

Schlatt exhaled gravely. His breath tarnished her cheeks. "God Vera! Why are you so- so... god! Don't ya get it already!?"

Her heart was beating in her face. "Get what exactly? The fact that you can't seem to stop your fat head butting into my business."

"No! That I- Jesus fuckin' Christ... I - ya really making me say this? Isn't obvious enough!?" 

Too close. Too close for any sort of reasoning. Too close for Vera's brain not to have a complete aneurysm right there and then. This was getting too intense, only one wrong word, one wrong fucking move and one of them would go beyond any sort of sanity and do something they'd both regret. 

"What. Isn't. Obvious. Enough?" Vera bit out, hardly hearing her own words over the sound of the blood rushing to her ears.

"Jesus Vera! I - I... fucking shit. You really - no... God, Vee. I l-"


	7. Chapter 7

**BEING TRUTHFULLY HONEST** , Vera had grown rather fond of Schlatt. Sort of in the way she could see them actually moving past their differences and becoming, well... _friends_. Though she'd treaded carefully around that topic, feeling as though it was explosive diarrhoea waiting to happen, now Vera could actually pluck up the courage to say that yes, maybe her and Schlatt were actually friends. Though not officially. But it was something nice to think about.

It was something to distract her from her wreck of a social life, and how she and Wilbur had received a fucking eviction notice through a dodgy email, and the looming thought of a probably disastrous family reunion - that was something she'd decided not to mention until it was too late, and Wilbur wouldn't force her to go to.

Though something that wouldn't be particularly useful in distracting her was the sudden announcement that TwitchCon was happening in New York, in bloody June.

"You bloody what!? And they expect us to pay for it?" Wilbur had flung the bathroom door open with his outburst, hearing of the news.

Vera had gasped dramatically. "Oh, _sod off_. Twitch can shove it up their fucking stingy, pissing urethr-"

There had been an entire scandal in San Diego about some money laundering and the usual venue having been some sort of cover for some _dodgy_ shit. Of course, Twitch was somehow involved. People had been fucked over, money was all over the place and so they'd decided to push it forward to June and hold it in New York in some sad attempt to scavenge any revenue they could. Vera thought this was an absolute buttfuck of an idea, something absolutely ridiculous. And so did at least three hundred thousand people on Twitter - Twitch never seemed able to sort their shit out, did they? Nevertheless, when she'd been invited to it, Vera had bloody agreed. 

Vera wasn't really sure what she was thinking. Agreeing to go to TwitchCon, after her trainwreck of a stay? Spending so much time in Schlatt's company must've kicked her brain. She could've very easily declined and stayed within the comfort of Schlatt's room, beating him at WiiSports time and time again. At least then Vera wouldn't be addled with gossip and masses of squealing teenage girls and band kids drowning her in their probing questions. 

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, easing her back into her reality. 

There was a loud hubbub of conversation and occasional screams unfolding from below the foyer balcony her and Wilbur had found themselves placed out. Together they sat at a small little table away from any sort of human interaction other than each other. Wilbur fed himself on a BLT sandwich as they looked down through the railing. God, she'd never felt more out of place in her life. Only three hours into this hell and Vera felt as though she was on already on the wait-list for prosthetic legs. So many questions and fans and weirdos who'd practically licked the ground she'd stepped on and the unprecedented amount of gifts - Vera had never wished to throw herself down a set of stairs more.

The overly optimistic company of Wilbur didn't exactly help either. It was like he'd done some ungodly amount of drugs and was currently digesting cocaine through his sandwich. For a moment, Vera almost caught herself wishing for the presence of Schlatt and how much she wanted him to just be there, next to her and doing fuck-all. Before quickly realising that no, she most definitely did not want that all and that yes, she was probably going fucking insane and that-

"The panel is next, in about fifteen minutes." Wilbur perked up, dipping the crust of his sandwich into the little paper bag marked in giant atrocious bubble-writing 'WILBOR SNOT'. "Y'know, where you go sit at a table with a bunch of people and talk about-"

Vera increased the frown she didn't know she had. "Alright, alright. I know what a bloody panel is, Wilbur. No need to remind me."  
  


He shrugged, "You just looked a bit confused just now, that's all. Your face looked like a giant diarrhetic hippo was about to shit on you - I was only trying to help."

Nodding slowly, the pair returned to a peaceful quietness. It didn't last long.

Wilbur said suddenly in a small voice, "He definitely fancies you, you know."  
  


She bit back a familiar groan and looked up at Wilbur who lounged beside her. In return, he nodded over to Schlatt who'd made an appearance in the foyer, swarmed by a gaggle of school girls. Ah, of course, Schlatt... Vera had hardly seen or spoken to him that day at all, considering he'd skidded off like a rat with the plague as soon as they'd fucking arrived. Not even a bloody 'goodbye', or 'have fun, Vee' as he left. Vera felt stupidly offended by that. 

"Oh Jesus Wilbur, don't you fucking start. _Again_." Vera kept her gaze glued to the floor and voice small. "He quite clearly does not."

Wilbur clamoured out a barely stifled snort. "Oh _yes,_ he does. I've seen how he looks at you when your back is turned. And when it isn't turned too - you're just a bit too oblivious and a bit too stupid to see it."  
  
  


Vera did not want this conversation to go on any longer. Well, maybe she _did_. After all, it was just her natural human curiosity, right? She made it through ten seconds of painful silence before she caved and asked as casually as she could, "And how is that, hmm? That sort of murderous rage in his eyes? One that says he wants to throw me under a guillotine and kick my decapitated head around like its the premier league?" 

"C'mon now Vera, you know bloody well that that man does _not_ hate you. He never has and probably never will." Wilbur stated. "I mean, if you want any proof the other night can speak for itself-"

" _Oi_." She warned with a wagging finger. As expected, Wilbur still had not dropped the dreaded hug.

Wilbur merely shrugged and smirked. "My point exactly." 

Vera twiddled her thumbs. Her eyes flickered over to Schlatt for a moment. He chatted away and laughed and smiled, completely unaware that Vera was looking. Even after three hours of what must've been pictures and constant chitchat, he looked every part the classic Schlatt - kitted out in his god-awful Timberlands and that dreaded Obama-family sweater. His hair curled enticing ringlets around his nape, speaking of his morning shower where he spent most of screaming the lyrics to some Big Time Rush song. God, he looked good and perhaps, far too good for her liking. 

She cleared her throat and drew her gaze away. "So? How does he look at me, if you're so bloody sure about it."

Wilbur smiled and leaned in a little closer. "Well, sometimes he looks at you like a lost puppy, with all that sparkle in his eye that makes him look like that emoji that all those twelve-year-old girls use. Sort of like it's the apocalypse and you're the last can of tuna on earth."

Vera couldn't help but let a small grin slip onto her face. It wasn't like she was happy or anything, more or less totally _amused_. Wilbur had to be lying by the grit on his teeth as usual. 

"And judging by the way you're grinning like a crack addict now, I'd say that you perhaps _reciprocate_ those feelin-"  
  


Her seat skidded as she gathered her things and jolted up. "Oh, wow, w-would you look at the time? I think we'd best be getting to the panel now, don't you?"

Wilbur had noticed how she'd _almost_ stumbled over her words - something that only happened when Schlatt was the orbit of conversation. 

"Right..." He was wise enough not to mention any more of Schlatt, unless he wished for a Fiat 500 to run him over in his sleep. So, he held out his arm, "Want an escort?" 

Vera vigorously shook her head. "Nah. Gotta... uh, toilet. Yeah. Toilet." And like so, Vera sped off for what felt like the longest trip to the bathroom in her life, narrowly avoiding a group of boys who had her face plastered onto the front and back of their t-shirts.

She'd seemed slightly less tense when she'd emerged ten minutes later, though she was still trying to squeeze the remains of Wilbur's words into nothing but a distant dream. It had to be seriously damaging on the rest of her poor brain to be thinking about it so much. Why was she so concerned? Was it the fear that Schlatt might actually tolerate her for something more than being the winner at every video game they'd played? Or was it the deadly unnerving squelch in her gut that told her that Vera had-

No. _No_. It was wrong. Entirely foolish. So much so, that she felt so much more humiliated when she'd finally realised how many times she'd asked that of herself. Schlatt needed to get out of her head. If he was out of sight, out of mere conversation, then he would be out of her mind for good. Yes, that was reasonable.

And the hope of that even beginning was shit on when a familiar voice rang clear over the hustle of chatter.

"Eyyyy, Vera! There ya are!"

Oh wonderful, if only to make things worse he was currently jogging over. Did he have no shame? Did he even notice the people whipping out their phones to snap a quick little video of Schlatt fucking jogging over to Vera like he was some lost puppy? Vera wanted to turn tail and flee but by the time she'd realised he was _actually_ jogging, Schlatt had arrived at her side, panting.

He gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder and smiled broadly. Vera could hardly bring herself to smile back underneath all the embarrassment. 

"God, I've been lookin' for ya for ages," Schlatt said, beginning to walk with Vera in what she presumed was the direction of the panel. "I bumped into Wilbur in case you were wonderin'. The fucker said you went to do a shit and you always take so fuckin' long on the toilet, and ya always struggle opening the door. I jus' wanted to make sure ya didn't get trapped in the toilet like last time and have one foot stickin' out the wood."  
  


Vera felt herself ease up somewhat at his warmth. "Well, I think you'll find that most bathrooms are actually functional."

Schlatt merely shrugged. "Oh, yeah yeah, whatever. Ya fuckin' wish ya had a bathroom as goddamn classy as mine... now hurry up, we're gonna be late ya broad." 

They took several right turns, Vera at his ankles as she desperately tried to catch up, before finally arriving at the lift that would take them up to the floor the panel was hosted at. Schlatt, much to her sheer horror, pushed his way to the front of the queue for the only fucking lift in the building. With a creak, the doors slowly winded open revealing the tiniest space known to man and with that came a hot waft of air and the distinct smell of some teenage boy's deadly body odour. It took no hesitation from Schlatt to push her in first and get a good old whiff of it and giving her a couple more seconds, he finally stepped inside and pressed the button '4'. 

In silence they stood together, Vera trying her best not to nudge her elbow against his in such confinement. Time was moving far too slow and the moist heat only made things worse - the lift seemed to be moving at a good one mile an hour.

Schaltt groaned and propped against one of the panels. "What the fuck is wrong with this thing? Why is it movin' so goddamn slow?"

"I dunno..." Vera hardly bit back the urge to say that it was probably Schlatt's entire bloody body mass holding it down. 

"Right, I'm gonna fix this." 

"What are you talking abou- for fucksake Schlatt, _leave it_." Vera was about to shit herself. There was no way in hell Schlatt was about to... "No!"

"Eyy, c'mon Vee. It'll work, trust me."  
  


"Don't you dar-"  
  


Vera might've well had a giant toe in her mouth.

Schlatt had already braced himself for impact as he jumped and thudded deafeningly onto the lift floor.

There was a loud whirring noise, then an intense shudder, before being followed by the sound of what sounded like a tractor accidentally running over an orphanage. Oh God. Oh fuck. Oh _no_. For a moment, there was an eerie silence - neither of them dared to be the first one to speak. They blinked, flickering glances from the emergency bell to Schlatt's Timberlands. She just knew that those fucking shoes would be the death of her. A creak scraped down either side of them and the lift dropped a good metre. Surprised, Vera twisted in Schlatt's sudden grasp for her wrist and stumbled back, losing her balance and taking him down with her. 

Vera groaned a painful breath and drew herself to her feet, leaving Schlatt sitting on the floor, and began to pound against the metal doors.

"Oh fuck, oh no, no." She hit again, hoping that it would somehow fix everything. "For fucksake Schlatt!" Vera kicked the door and turned to Schlatt, eyes wide and grim. "We’re trapped."

The fucker somehow had it in him to fucking snort at such a debacle. "Yeah, well no fuckin' shit Vee."

"Are you finding this fucking funny?" She snapped, towering over him with a look so deadly, Schlatt almost thought he'd suddenly morphed into Adam Aquino. "You've broken a fucking lift, we're probably going to miss our bloody panel, and poor old Wilbur and god-knows who else is probably shitting their pants thinking we've fucking ran off and eloped or something! We're gonna get cancelled on Twitter, Schlatt! Oh God... oh Jesus..."  
  


How on earth was he finding it in him to look so nonchalant? Especially now they were probably going to boil alive in a fucking lift that reeked of alarmingly bad body odour. Vera was not going to die with giant sweat patches reaching under her armpits, or in the near vicinity of Schlatt. 

"Oh, don't be so goddamn dramatic. Move outta the way," he got up and pushed her to the side before pressing the emergency bell. "Hello? Hellloooo? Helllllloooooooooo!? Gawd, fuckin' customer service these days, huh? Hellloooooo? I swear to God if none of these mother fuckers picks up I will shit all over their fuckin- oh, yes, hello... yeah, the elevator-" He sent a brooding look over at Vera as she mocked his accent "-is broken or somethin'... right, yeah. Well, uh, thanks."  
  


Vera drawled a long sigh before sliding down the wall and taking a seat on the floor. "Well... another thirty minutes until they can get maintenance over?"

"Yep..."  
  


"Oh, wonderful. Until then I'm broiling alive, I suppose?" 

Schlatt gave a glum smile. "You'll have me ya broad. The best entertainment you can get."  
  


When ten minutes of small talk had passed, Schlatt had peeled off his Obama jumper. Underneath he wore a personal favourite of Vera's, his own Schlatt and Co shirt that had tinted slightly black after the sweat had begun to seep through. Another ten minutes later and Vera had taken off her cardigan, where she too underneath wore a matching of Schlatt and Co shirt, but this one had been printed wrong and now read 'SCGLAT & CONE'. Things had gone incredibly quiet as they waited. They sat next to each other on the floor, staring at either the door for any sign of rescue or the floor, or having a very bad staring contest with each other. She'd never realised how curled his eyelashes were until then, or how if she pinched on cheek of his together, his moles would make a little elephant picture. 

Schlatt had cleared his throat after a few minutes, meaning to start some sort of conversation.

"So, Vee, what are your plans when you get back to England?" He asked, voice raspy after so much time in heat. He didn't notice the sudden tension in her brow. "Gonna eat some crumpets with the Queen's fuckin' corgi's or somethin'...? Maybe try and make some decent videos for once... ones that feature yours truly perhaps?"

Vera picked at her nails, answering back in a similar tone. "I - well... I'll find a new flat, help Wilbur move to Brighton with his mates and-"

"That's not what I meant, and ya know it. What the fuck are you gonna do about that french fucker Colette?" Schlatt perked up, eyeing Vera. 

She sighed. "I've sorted that..." she took Schlatt's quirked brow as a sign that it was not a decent answer. "By blocking her on everything and muting every mention of her and making sure I never contact her again. I just want to forget all about it y'know? I've missed my chance to blow her up and piss on the ashes, so I... well, yeah. That's about it. And besides, why the fuck would you care?" 

He scoffed, sounding as though she'd just asked as though how many nose-hairs he had. "Because I'm your friend, Vee."

Friends. They were actually friends? Wow... she'd never felt so unexpectedly happy about something but at the same time overtly offended.

Vera bristled, barely retaining her frantic sputter. "Ah."

"Problem?"

"No." She said a little too quickly.

"Good." He whipped out his phone, screen steamed up. "Now back to what I was saying before you decided to have a fuckin' throat seizure... you probably need to sort out," he flicked through his gallery, " _this_."

Vera squinted at the phone. She died. Then found herself reincarnated. And died again. All within a matter of about three or so seconds. "What the fucking shit balls, what...?" There, gleaming back at her, was a screenshot of Colette's Instagram, showing a picture of her, Elijah and... oh dear God, someone Vera most definitely did not want to see, along with the caption 'With my real best buddies, love you all so much, can't wait for this guy's wedding'. 

Schlatt pointed a finger over to the man with his arms around Colette's shoulders. "That's ya brother, I presume, right? Same last name, same weird lookin' teeth... same devious look in his eyes."

She swallowed. _Her own brother_. "Yep."

It sent some warm shiver up her spine. Vera had totally disregarded the fact that in September, she was to see her family again, for the first time since the disaster at Christmas. This family reunion was something she'd never been keen on, let alone a wedding. She thought it was some pathetic excuse just to rub all their happiness in her face. How well they were getting on _without_ her. She'd remembered how horrified she felt when the invitation came through her letterbox, and what she'd done to ignore it. This was all a little too much for her... and it was certainly something she didn't to discuss with Wilbur, let alone Schlatt. 

"And?"

It took a few swift moments for Vera to process _everything._ Schlatt declaring he was her friend, Colette's take over of her brother and Elijah, the most indirect way possible to announce 'hey, I hate you and I have now licked your brother's shoes' and well... _God_. Her mind felt like it was imploding. And when she thought of the repercussions of Colette fiddling in Vera's fucking trainwreck of a family... goddamn, was she absolutely fucked over.

"I - Oh God... Jesus take the bloody wheel. I - well..." Vera took a deep and steady breath, trying to calm herself down underneath the mountain of sweat piling up on her brow and the sudden feeling that her chest was about to combust. "I'm... I am not gonna do shit about shit, alright? I don't want to get involved. If she wants to dump me for fuckin' Adam and become bumchums with my fucking brother, whom she once fucking loathed, I ain't gonna stop her."  
  


"Now that's just ridiculous, Vee. What kinda idiot are ya to let this fuckin shit slide?" He leaned into her, furrowing his brows and not breaking eye contact. 

"I am not a fucking idiot Schlatt. I have no fucking reason to meddle in this."

"But you do! I mean, Jesus Vee, she made you fuckin' cry - something even _I_ could never do - and has been doing all this whack shit to probably try and turn everyone against you-"

"And, what about it!?" She hissed feverishly, barely managing to repress a deathly shout. "Why are you sticking your nose in something that you should be keeping your big fat gob out of in the first place?" 

Schlatt exhaled gravely. His breath tarnished her cheeks. "God Vera! Why are you so- so... god! Don't ya get it already!?"

Her heart was beating in her face. "Get what exactly? The fact that you can't seem to stop your fat head butting into my business."

"No! That I- Jesus fuckin' Christ... I - ya really making me say this? Isn't obvious enough!?" 

Too close. Too close for any sort of reasoning. Too close for Vera's brain not to have a complete aneurysm right there and then. This was getting too intense, only one wrong word, one wrong fucking move and one of them would go beyond any sort of sanity and do something they'd both regret. 

"What. Isn't. Obvious. Enough?" Vera bit out, hardly hearing her own words over the sound of the blood rushing to her ears.

"Jesus Vera! I - I... fucking shit. You really - no... God, Vee. I l-"

Vera glared right at him, trying her best to veil the typhoon of emotions and thoughts scraping around her head under the weight of one simple frown. What on earth was he babbling about? Was he trying to wind her up on purpose? He was completely unreadable and yet... his eyes told a different form, something that spoke of something Vera could only recognise now. She'd seen it in him so many times before, and yet could never place it until now. Wilbur's words echoed in her head like a lame prophecy, 'sort of like it's the apocalypse and she was the last can of tuna on earth'. But, it couldn't be - could it? Maybe she was being delusional, maybe she was going fucking crazy in this blistering heat. 

Nothing made sense anymore. The thought alone could make her forget her own name for weeks. A confession such as that would leave her melting into the wonderful leverage Schlatt imposed on her. It made everything feel so easy and tiresome all at once. 

_No_. She was being entirely irrational. And her world and every thought that had blossomed into her mind came crashing down upon her like an absurd wave of terribly humbling reality. A cold feeling of dread swept over her and she let herself drown in it.

"You, _what_? Spit it out." Her voice trembled out, harsh. 

His voice wobbled alarmingly. "For god sake, why don't ya understand!? Why don't ya fucking get it already?"

Vera took a shallow breath, trying to keep down the feeling pooling in her gut. "I don't have the fucking patience for this anymore. Either say what you want to say or shut up."

" _Please_." He didn’t raise his voice at all, just sounded tired and resigned, and that scared Vera all the more. "Jesus, Vera... I - I can't with this anymore. Don't you fuckin' realise? Vera... I li-"

The lift began to squeak, before starting up again with a flicker from the light above and it rolled back down to the ground floor just in time for Vera to get up. No words were spoken. Not even a glance of concern or denial or warmth. The doors creaked open to reveal masses upon masses of teenagers and streamers all grouped around the lift, all chattering amongst themselves. That was until they noticed Schlatt and Vera standing in the entranceway gravely. Then fell a cascade of whispers and camera's clicking for a photo and some wolf-whistles as Vera stepped out.

Oh, God. It probably looked like they'd shagged in there or something dreadful like that. This was mortifying. And so she did the only thing she could; she drew herself up, spine straight, and painted a look of discontent upon her face with the remains of her dignity. 

"I'll see you, Schlatt."

She swept out of the lift dismissively and away from sight.

Schlatt no longer felt like a bother, or someone who she could get along with quite well. No hatred or longing for a way for him to get pushed down the stairs. Her tolerance for him had stretched way beyond friends. This wasn’t just physical attraction anymore; it was like a dam had broken and the rush of affection for Schlatt suddenly ran a whole hell of a lot deeper. He was inevitable. 

Vera was absolutely fucked. 


	8. Chapter 8

**BY THE TIME** Monday evening had rolled around - thus marking the end of TwitchCon, thank god - Vera had never been in better spirits to jump on a plane home and leave New York for good. The weekend had been exhausting, and even the more chaotic by the end of the first day. After the unfortunate incident with the lift, the aftermath on Twitter was embarrassingly normal. Of course, there were the rumours that they'd shagged, or that they'd done it on purpose for some publicity stunt, and the both of them had been cancelled multiple times for missing the panel and 'ripping off' fans. When another panel was scheduled to make up for that mess, Vera spent all of it completely disregarding Schlatt and his entire existence.

She did not want to think about the unusual conversation they'd had. She did not want to think about that look in his eyes and how he'd somehow let his guard down enough that he was going to tell her something she didn't know. And she most certainly did not want to think about how pathetically close she was to completely yielding into him completely. 

It was humiliating, all of it. Which made everything even worse every time she'd spotted him since. They'd avoided each other even back in his apartment and Wilbur found it far too odd that they refused to speak during dinner. Wilbur had even noticed Schlatt had stopped whinging about how long Vera would spend in the shower each morning! Something had definitely happened between them, Wilbur thought, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"So that's it...? Seriously, Vera? I'm quite disappointed in you, honestly," Wilbur remarked, taking a small draught of his beer. Vera quirked a brow up, though refused to look at him and swirled her vodka around in her glass. "I mean the fact that you _didn't_ shag-"

"Oh Wilbur, for Christ's sake..." Vera complained, even more gloomy than usual. 

He smirked. "What! Look, I'm only saying... if I had done the ol' devil's tango with him in a lift, I wouldn't speak to him for days either."

"Alright...? And your point is?" 

"You've just been... funny, for the past few days. Like the weird type of funny. Both of you have." Wilbur pursed his lips together, probably concerned that his dream 'couple' had gotten into some sort of lovers quarrel. Poking at her arm to drag her attention away from the contents of her glass, Vera still refused to even make any sort of eye contact with him. "Right, I know you aren't telling me something, Vera. You're keeping something away from me, and judging how bloody weird you've been it's probably a very, very, _very_ big secre-"  
  


She threw her arms up in defeat and rolled her eyes. "Alright! Please for the love of God, just leave it for once... _please_."

"Look I'll back off then. I just don't want you getting into another mess with Schlatt or god knows who else..." He trailed off, finishing the remains of his beer and leaving a little white moustache edging around his lips.

  
"Yeah, yeah, thank you oh so much for your concern Wilbur. Really appreciate it..." 

Vera had nothing else to say to Wilbur - or anyone else for that matter. The fact that she'd been dragged against her own will to this shitty after-party spoke mammoths about how in need she was for some distraction away from the mess shrouding her. It was just the hope that in twelve hours time she'd be out of here, out of America and out of Schlatt's strange bubble of despair. And yet, that still wouldn't stop her gaze from dragging across her drink and over to the other side of the dimly lit room to where _he_ sat, studying him with a beady eye. 

His cheeks were terribly flushed, something that only happened when he'd been laughing like a hyena for god knows how long - _who_ on earth had managed to make him laugh so much? Schlatt's eyes flickered from each person huddled around him, bright with enthusiasm and he lounged a little too confident against the small couch he was on. At least, that was until he'd caught Vera and her pathetic little stare and he'd... faltered. Now completely oblivious to the others around him, he kept Vera's eye in his gaze and a brief but genuine smile tugged at the lines of his lips, almost twisting her insides into a double-sided knot of impending doom.

Schlatt could hardly hold back his snort when Vera tore away her stare like a crack-addict with a shattered glass pipe up her arse.

Being truthfully honest, Schlatt had been sure that Vera had fancied him, because Vera was about the least-subtle (farting-loudly-but-saying-it's-not-her _subtle_ ) person on the planet. It had been just over three weeks since Carson's party, three weeks during which he'd decided to wind her up and flirt, and giving her little compliments and finding every excuse possible to even be within six feet of her presence. Just that hour when they'd arrived at this after-party, Vera had tripped out of the uber there and Schlatt had caught her arm just before she'd face-planted into the floor, and she stood frozen in place, blushing wildly and looking everywhere but Schlatt as he tugged her back into balance. 

God, it was so painfully obvious, Stevie Wonder could've probably read Vera's heart on her face. And Schlatt himself had only _just_ clocked that he'd fucking fallen arse-up for- 

Oh, dear God. No. That couldn't be right. Surely not... it seemed so impossible and newfangled. But it hit him. Like how a monster truck would hit a wheelchair _hit_. His pathetic ramblings in the elevator finally made so much more sense, how he could hardly describe what he could say but somehow _knew_ it. And how each time the mere thought of her blinked into his mind, Schlatt found himself second-guessing every single damn syllable he'd ever spoken to her. Could it be that he was so mortifyingly in over his arse that he'd been so disturbingly unaware of his own affection for... Vera Granger? 


	9. Chapter 9

**BY THE TIME** Monday evening had rolled around - thus marking the end of TwitchCon, thank god - Vera had never been in better spirits to jump on a plane home and leave New York for good. The weekend had been exhausting, and even the more chaotic by the end of the first day. After the unfortunate incident with the lift, the aftermath on Twitter was embarrassingly normal. Of course, there were the rumours that they'd shagged, or that they'd done it on purpose for some publicity stunt, and the both of them had been cancelled multiple times for missing the panel and 'ripping off' fans. When another panel was scheduled to make up for that mess, Vera spent all of it completely disregarding Schlatt and his entire existence.

She did not want to think about the unusual conversation they'd had. She did not want to think about that look in his eyes and how he'd somehow let his guard down enough that he was going to tell her something she didn't know. And she most certainly did not want to think about how pathetically close she was to yielding into him completely. 

It was humiliating, all of it. Which made everything even worse every time she'd spotted him since. They'd avoided each other even back in his apartment and Wilbur found it far too odd that they refused to speak during dinner. Wilbur had even noticed Schlatt had stopped whinging about how long Vera would spend in the shower each morning! Something had definitely happened between them, Wilbur thought, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"So that's it...? Seriously, Vera? I'm quite disappointed in you, honestly," Wilbur remarked, taking a small draught of his beer. Vera quirked a brow up, though refused to look at him and swirled her vodka around in her glass. "I mean the fact that you _didn't_ shag-"

"Oh Wilbur, for Christ's sake..." Vera complained, even more gloomy than usual. 

He smirked. "What! Look, I'm only saying... if I had done the ol' devil's tango with him in a lift, I wouldn't speak to him for days either."

"Alright...? And your point is?" 

"You've just been... funny, for the past few days. Like the weird type of funny. Both of you have." Wilbur pursed his lips together, probably concerned that his dream 'couple' had gotten into some sort of lovers quarrel. Poking at her arm to drag her attention away from the contents of her glass, Vera still refused to even make any sort of eye contact with him. "Right, I know you aren't telling me something, Vera. You're keeping something away from me, and judging how bloody weird you've been it's probably a very, very, _very_ big secre-"  
  


She threw her arms up in defeat and rolled her eyes. "Alright! Please for the love of God, just leave it for once... _please_."

"Look I'll back off then. I just don't want you getting into another mess with Schlatt or god knows who else..." He trailed off, finishing the remains of his beer and leaving a little white moustache edging around his lips.

  
"Yeah, yeah, thank you oh so much for your concern Wilbur. Really appreciate it..." 

Vera had nothing else to say to Wilbur - or anyone else for that matter. The fact that she'd been dragged against her own will to this shitty after-party spoke mammoths about how in need she was for some distraction away from the mess shrouding her. It was just the hope that in twelve hours she'd be out of here, out of America and out of Schlatt's strange bubble of despair. And yet, that still wouldn't stop her gaze from dragging across her drink and over to the other side of the dimly lit room to where _he_ sat, studying him with a beady eye. 

His cheeks were terribly flushed, something that only happened when he'd been laughing like a hyena for god knows how long - _who_ on earth had managed to make him laugh so much? Schlatt's eyes flickered from each person huddled around him, bright with enthusiasm and he lounged a little too confident against the small couch he was on. At least, that was until he'd caught Vera and her pathetic little stare and he'd... faltered. Now completely oblivious to the others around him, he kept Vera's eye in his gaze and a brief but genuine smile tugged at the lines of his lips, almost twisting her insides into a double-sided knot of impending doom.

Schlatt could hardly hold back his snort when Vera tore away her stare like a crack-addict with a shattered glass pipe up her arse.

Being truthfully honest, Schlatt had been sure that Vera had fancied him, because Vera was about the least-subtle (farting-loudly-but-saying-it's-not-her _subtle_ ) person on the planet. It had been just over three weeks since Carson's party, three weeks during which he'd decided to wind her up and flirt, and giving her little compliments and finding every excuse possible to even be within six feet of her presence. Just that hour when they'd arrived at this after-party, Vera had tripped out of the uber there and Schlatt had caught her arm just before she'd face-planted into the floor, and she stood frozen in place, blushing wildly and looking everywhere but Schlatt as he tugged her back into balance. 

God, it was so painfully obvious, Stevie Wonder could've probably read Vera's heart on her face. And Schlatt himself had only _just_ clocked that he'd fucking fallen arse-up for- 

Oh, dear God. No. That couldn't be right. Surely not... it seemed so impossible and newfangled. But it hit him. Like how a monster truck would hit a wheelchair _hit_. His pathetic ramblings in the elevator finally made so much more sense, how he could hardly describe what he could say but somehow _knew_ it. And how each time the mere thought of her blinked into his mind, Schlatt found himself second-guessing every single damn syllable he'd ever spoken to her. Could it be that he was so mortifyingly in over his arse that he'd been so disturbingly unaware of his own affection for... Vera Granger? 

"He's staring..." Wilbur remarked into Vera's ear, awfully smug.

Vera really did try her best to conceal the sudden burst of joy in her chest with the thought that, oh my God, he _was_ staring. "And?"

" _And_ , he's coming over," he nudged her into the direct line of Schlatt and his march of will. "D'you think he's gonna profess his undying love to you, like gonna get down on one knee and start singing a bloody sonnet? _Roses are red, violets are blue, when we're apart my heart beats only for youuuu...!_ " Wilbur sang into her ear with all the dramatics of an opera singer on class-a drugs.

"Jesus, Wilbur, please, please, please, _shut up-"_

"You guys good?" Schlatt grinned at them and Vera had the sudden urge to spend the rest of her night gurgling down toilet water. 

Wilbur made some attempt at small talk with Schlatt, desperately trying to divert his attention from the sudden fog of tension surrounding the three. This was awkward - unbearably fucking awkward. It was as though Wilbur was the caught zipper on a very _tight_ dress and Schlatt was the one using all his might to heave it upwards on Vera. One hundred per cent sure that Vera would not dare speak with Schlatt if Wilbur was still lingering about, he knew it best to leave and not return for the next five or so light-years.

He cleared his throat. "Right, uh... it's a bit hot here, isn't it? You know what I think I might pop to the toilet - uh, y'know freshen myself up a bit. I'll be just back..." Wilbur made his cue to leave, but not before catching the pleading glint in Vera's eye that begged him not to leave her alone. Alas, Wilbur knew damn well what was best and disappeared into the crowd. 

Silence. An excruciating silence. Vera could not remember the last time it was like this between her and Schlatt, for _that_ feeling had been eradicated ever since... well, ever since the moment Vera had reconciled with Schlatt. Then the words of Wilbur flashed into her mind, every single one of his stupid ramblings on her and Schlatt, and her gut seemed to coil in on itself. What if... that entire goddamn time Wilbur had been right? Not about her liking Schlatt - that topic was a grenade waiting to blow up in her face - but about, Schlatt fancying her? She shivered. Then kept on thinking about it like some delusional cow. Maybe... just maybe Schlatt-

"He's right."

Vera choked and sputtered and felt as though the soul of an eighty-six-year-old man going into a severe cardiac arrest had rammed into her body. "E-excuse me?"

"I said, he's right," Schlatt said, before taking a gander at Vera's horrified face and frowning. "He's right, about that temperature...?" Schlatt spoke, quite unsure of what Vera was looking so ghastly about.

She exhaled a sigh of sheer relief. "Oh, right yeah, the temperature... of course."

He simpered his lips and gave out a soft chuckle. "Shit Vee, ya really are a fuckin' dipshit sometimes," he smiled, trying to catch her eye. Vera kept her gaze glued to her shoes. There was something terribly wrong with Vera, as though she'd just caught news that her family had been massacred by a giraffe with a chainsaw. But knowing her, he decided not to say anything about her weirdness and simply continued on. "Gawd, let's get outta here for a bit, I feel like the inside of an old man's saggy, haemorrhoid-infested ass cheeks."

Vera snorted, and Schlatt could not help but beam at that. 

He began to walk away in sight of the small balcony out at the back, expecting Vera to trail along behind him as she usually did, but this time, she stayed glued to the spot. Something within the depths of her insides told her that if she even dared consider following Schlatt out there, she would not be long for this world. Something horribly dreadful was bound to occur and Vera did not want to experience whatever disaster her fate held for her.

"You really did take my Helen Keller jokes to fuckin' heart, didn't ya? Come along Granger, I ain't got all damn night." Schlatt returned to her side and gave a little push on her back.

The mere momentary touch his palm almost sent her flying up into the atmosphere - he'd burned through the layers of her clothes, and all those emotions masking her bare skin and she felt like an insignificant cardboard-cutout of herself. The way she had bristled and quivered slightly sent her questioning whether she should hand herself into A&E right then and there.

He'd lead them out onto a small fire-escape balcony, stowed away from the boisterous delights of the party and from the eyes of gossiping streamers and drunkards. It was just her, Schlatt and the somewhat comforting bustle of New York City below. 

Schlatt rested on the balcony railing, trying his best to look philosophical and wise as he stared out into the windows of light around them. In reality, he was just bumbling around for an idea that would lead to some sort of conversation instead of an awkward silence.

Vera had placed her drink down and could only spring herself to stare at Schlatt like some amnesic donkey. In that moment, Vera could only think of how wonderfully reassuring it was to have his mere presence beside her. How despite all her troubles, just having Schlatt stand there looking a tad lost and confused, made her day feel that much more pleasant. She admitted to herself that the trivial noise of him simply breathing could charm her and sizzle her heart in two, like sausages in a far too oily pan. 

And so, when the silence was finally broken by Schlatt by the words that had so often started very important topics, an alarming sense of dread swallowed her whole.

"I... I'm sorry," Schlatt had began, pursing his lips together tightly and not exactly able to bring himself to look at Vera. 

She gulped, twiddling her thumbs. "For what?"  
  


He too, gulped and glanced over at Vera. "Well, uh, ya know... all that shit I said in the elevator."

Ah, the lift waffle - the thought of what could've been said made her chest feel unbearably uncomfortable. Vera stayed silent, not exactly knowing how to respond.

"Look I... I-I'm not fuckin' sure what I was goin' on about back then myself, so uh, don't worry about it, alright?" He did in fact know what he was going on about, Schlatt was just too much of a goddamn pussy to man-up and spit it out. She nodded and Schlatt felt explicitly overwhelmed to try and explain himself. "I just thought I would say a kinda apology, 'cause uhm... well, 'cause I think ya got a bit freaked out and weird and I... I just - God, well I just was ramblin' and being a fuckin' weirdo so don't worry yourself on that. I don't think I was even goin' on about somethin' important so uh, yeah. Just sorry."  
  


Vera had a very odd feeling that told her Schlatt knew exactly what he was on about. But, Schlatt had told her not to worry so she would not worry. No. Definitely no worrying over _that._ Instead, a crippling disappointment swept over her.

"Thank the Lord for that!" Vera limply grinned, trying to mask her displeasure. And not only did she fail at doing so, she began to blurt out then one thing that Vera knew damn well she couldn't say. "You know, I thought back then that you were about to fucking say you had feelings for me or some vile shit like that. Honestly, what was I on!? Hah, well good thing I won't have to worry about that anymore."

Schlatt thought his ribs would crack beneath the enormous pressure that swelled in his chest. A deep furrow appeared between his brows.

"What's that supposed to goddamn mean?" Schlatt had intended to come off not as hurt as he actually was, but the frigid tone in his voice spoke otherwise. Vera got the sense that she'd just said something abysmally wrong. "Ya know, what if I had confessed some _shit_ like that then, hmm? Then what would you have done?"

Vera took a shaky breath and tried to play off his sudden seriousness with a firm chuckle. "Oh, Christ, Schlatt... don't be fucking ridiculous. You and I both know that would never happen - I mean, look at you... I-I... _honestly_! Shit Schlatt..."

"God, you don't have to be such a fuckin' bitch about it, do ya?" The words had spilt from his mouth before he'd even managed to register what he had just said. 

Her gaze sharpened. "Now, what's that supposed to fucking mean? Why the fuck are you suddenly calling me a bitch? Don't tell me you actually like me or something pathetic like that... Jesus, you have no fucking right calling me a bitch when half the time you have your own head so far fucking up your own arse that you don't realise how much you hurt everyone around you."

" _Pardon_?" Schlatt sneered, curling his lip. "Me? Hurting people around _me_? You're outta ya goddamn puny mind, Vera, you know that? Ya know what I think you're doing, hmm? You are just channelling your own fuckin' shitty flaws onto me 'cause you can't handle the goddamn fact that the only person you have left in your miserable life is Wilbur."

Rage bubbled deep within her, scraping its way up her throat to the point Vera thought she almost might be sick. Vera could not comprehend the staggering amount of ache that had ballooned in her chest. "Oh, go fuck yourself Schlatt. Acting so holier-than-thou won't solve all your own issues. You can ram it all up your arse."

He scoffed gravely and flicked over a contemptuous glance. "If that's what it fuckin' takes to for you to realise how much of a fuck-up you are, then be my goddamn guest Vera. You know what, I'm so fuckin' happy to see you finally leave New York. You know what, why don't ya make everyone's life a little easier and stop embarrassing yourself by fuckin' off right now, hmm?"

Ridiculously, Vera felt betrayed. She dug her fingernails into her palms and let her stubbornness hide the fact that Schlatt was right. And that was what hurt even more. He _was_ right. And she was a fucking fool. Vera stumbled for words - stumbled for anything that could build up a giant wall that could conceal her mortification and grief.

"I-I'll be glad not to see your face again. I-I... I'll be glad that I _never_ have to interact or face your schmoozing arrogance for any longer."

"Oh, _really_?" Schlatt snapped back, sounding so oddly amused by her. Why did he seem so suddenly entertained by it all? 

The distance that lay between them inched smaller and smaller by each passing moment. Schlatt was taking his pride in his steps and making his way over. This could only make Vera feel more ashamed and intimidated as she began to back up and cower against the railing. 

"That was some fuckin' show you tried to put on there, Vera." He said, eyes glaring into her own. "Got somethin' to prove?"

Vera shuddered. "I-I could say the same for you... you make me look like a fucking fool every time I'm near you! I-I... I'm a fucking laughing stock."

Schlatt scoffed as though he'd never heard anything more ridiculous in his life. She'd expected him to say something back, but instead he stared in a bleak silence, resigned and tired and not at all displaying the surge of anger he'd shown mere moments before. Trembling over the exasperating weight of her own devotion, she could no longer shell out a fight for anything that meant otherwise. The threat of tears was eminent and the hot prickling behind her eyes made it so she was no longer able to hold back the dam of her dignity.

"W-when I leave here, I'll forget all about you. You will mean nothing to me - no, Jonathan... you don't mean _anything_ to me."  
  


There was a tense stillness that engulfed the pair. The rise and fall of their chests in sync only made Vera more aware of the current mess she'd landed in. 

Schlatt bent forward, gripping a firm hand onto the railing behind Vera, caging her within his grasp for victory. He was so close - too close for any sort of comfort or sensible thought to be swirling in each of their minds. "Oh, seriously? Ya really think you could forget about me?"

She choked back anything that told her that he was right. "Yeah, t-that's right. I know what kind of person you really are now. I'll forget you and every shitty little thing _that-!_ "

"Just you try and forget me, then." 

Not even a moment's hesitation. Not even a flicker of warning that spoke of his intention. The deep anguish that wallowed within her made it all the more petrifying. Only a momentary gasp for air and some sort of struggle for rational thought was all Vera could manage out. For by the time she'd registered the true feat of Schlatt's words, it was too late.

Vera was helpless other than to tilt her chin down a fraction and let Schlatt find his triumph over her. In a moment of nonsensical thought, his lips met hers. And Vera had not the faintest idea as to what had caused such a disastrous fate. Vera gave in to his touch and felt her lips fall lax against his own, painfully aware of the consequence this would cause. The temporary moment of sheer rapture Vera felt between them vanished into nothing as he pulled away.

"Serves you right."

The memory of Jonathan sodding Schlatt was ingrained in her mind for good. And there wasn't any damn thing that could barrel him out of there.

**END OF ACT ONE**


	10. Chapter 10

**VERA GRANGER WAS** frozen, unable to move or breathe or _think_ , unable to do anything but stand there like a shitting moron. Maybe if she propelled herself fast enough, she'd be able to break the sound barrier and hurl herself into the depths of space. Any longer in that stuffy room, swept between the crowd and she was sure that she would sick up all the dangerous contents of that night.

Leaving was the only thing Vera needed to do. As far as her conscience was concerned, it was the only option sane enough that wouldn't deem her as an imbecile or downright deranged. 

There was no comfort better than going back to hating Jonathan sodding Schlatt. It was too far gone for any reconciliation. Too far fucking gone for any sort of forgiveness or their idiotic exchanges of 'sorries' or any glint threatening in those stupid eyes of his that spoke of anything but 'I loathe you'. Of course, it was so familiar, worn as comfortable as a pair of old shoes or indulging back in a bad habit. And with every long moment that passed, Vera could only feel herself slipping further and further into that cesspool. The only sensible and _right_ thing to do was embrace hating Schlatt. For as long as she devoted every fibre of her being into despising that dipshit, Vera knew that she could forget just how much she'd liked him. 

She was sure _someone_ was calling after her, though she neither had the nerve or a severe amount of intoxication to possibly glance back. Vera ignored it, ignored everything as she hustled herself between tables and chairs and laughing groups of people. So terrifyingly aghast with horror, she could hardly bring herself to swallow back any menace of tears or any further mortification.

The very moment Vera had finally found Wilbur, she'd yanked onto his arm, ushered him away and fled. 

* * *

Vera lurched upwards with violent jerk, stiffening her grip on the tube pole. It was for a brief and comforting moment that Vera thought she'd finally succumb to her hangover and died of alcohol poisoning. But realised with a groan, she unfortunately had not. A burning headache panged between her brows and as the carriage grated to a stop, it took everything within her not to chug up her insides. 

She had not been fully brought awake by the ruddy London Underground for more than three minutes before she felt eyes glaring at the back of her head. Cautious, Vera gave a slow swivel and turned her weary gaze upwards, only to reveal Wilbur gawking down with a curious little frown. Well, shit. Not more than three seconds had she met that stupid concerned gaze of his that Vera knew exactly what was about to come rambling out of his mouth. She braced herself for impact and drew her eyes back down to the linoleum. 

"I'm not being funny and I do honestly mean it in the nicest way possible but you look a bit like erm, _shit,_ Vera," Wilbur spoke evenly, pursing his lips together. He had gotten into the habit of worrying over her since he'd moved to Brighton. He was only back in London to worry and make sure Vera hadn't died.

She regarded him with a short dismissive wave and leaned up against the pole. "Right. Yeah. Don't mention it."

"I kinda do think I _should_ mention it. I mean Christ, I leave you alone for three bloody months and you're up and about doing _this_ ," he chided. Wilbur snatched his hand forwards and gave a little shake at Vera's wrist, pointing out her shoddy attempt at hiding wine in a crunched up plastic water bottle. "I hope you bloody well know that it is illegal."

"Eeesh, man. Shush!" Elijah Lewis urged his way forward, side-eyeing the fellow passengers, scowling at Wilbur. "Look at you, absolute wasteman, wafflin' on about it. Shut your mouth, you get me?"

Wilbur looked at him gravely for a moment and rolled his eyes. "No need to get so defensive over it; I'm just a tad, well, concerned that's all... yesterday, she was so stonked off her rocker that she could hardly remember her arse from her mouth. You know she hasn't even bloody streamed in over what, two months? Not even a peep on social media from her and considering all Vera is, it's fucking weird." In dismay, he looked back down at Vera and sighed. "Look, are you okay? You don't need to get your stomach pumped, do you?"

Rather than answer, Vera tipped her head back, unscrewed the cap of her bottle and swallowed down the last inch of wine that had slowly warmed in the bottom. 

"Rahhh, you man just longin' it. Vera is fine, ain't you?" He ruffled at Vera's scalp. Vera glared in return but then resigned herself and shook her head.

"Mmm, yeah. What he said," Vera uttered, vaguely gesturing to Elijah and threading down her hair. "Ohhh for fucksake, don't look at me like that Wilbur... I'm fucking fine so leave it, swear to God. Back me here, Elijah." She stared up at Wilbur with nothing but her finest effort at trying to convince the stubborn sod. 

The latter vigorously nodded. Elijah smirked, clearly quite satisfied. "See? I was right innit. She is calm so stop wafflin'..." 

Truthfully speaking, that was just about the biggest load of dogshit Vera could have managed to spit out without the help of laxatives. No matter how much she had tried to convince herself, she most certainly was not fine at all. It seemed nothing did quite feel _fine_ ever since... well, ever since she had taken her guilty-conscience ridden return back to England. Nearly five whole weeks of day in day out turmoil, despair and god forbid, _laughter_ , and all she was shat out with at the end of it all, was the return of dismal hatred, regret and the crippling reality of her life. She did not have a single nerve left in her body that would even give her the remote sense of courage to think about it again. 

God, even three months later it still reigned strong. The humiliation, the dread, the fact that things could never go back to how it was before New York, before Twitchcon, before... him and those stupid ruddy sodding timberlands. Jesus take the wheel, she would not be caught dead thinking about that again. Vera had taken a sincere and solemn vow not to. And yet, there she was. She had desperately taken every measure possible not to have Jonathan Schlatt lurking about in her mind. Blocked the fucker on every platform imaginable, silenced the mentions of his name on everything and made up stupid lies every time she was due to stream, _just in case_. But of course, unless she planned on drowning herself in pigeon shit, there was no stopping her idiotic mind from pondering it. 

Vera had come to terms that she had fancied Schlatt quite some time ago. It took her two miserable minutes to get over that one. Their very last moment together seemed to have fixed that, though she hadn't realised it until a month or so later. As soon as that was over and done with, her duty was to remain at the throne as his number one arch-nemesis. To keep that very loyal fact up, she had not told a bloody soul about what had truly happened on that balcony. Lord only knows what would happen if Wilbur managed to get his slimy hands on it. Repressing and forgetting was the best way to go about it and it had gone quite- 

She cursed and clutched onto her gut as the carriage stopped at the platform. More people pushed their way in only to reveal... oh, Lord. Oh, Jesus Christ. No fucking way. No absolute shitting bollocks was this happening. In no damn universe imaginable was that fucker on the London Underground, sitting on a seat rammed between a balding Tory and a sleeping student.

Vera had squinted sharply then rubbed at her eyes before realising, no, it was not that bastard. It was simply some random scrawny white guy who wore that same ridiculous hat and those killer timberlands. She was going crazy. Genuinely going mad. Was the damage done to her brain that bad that Vera actually thought some random guy was Schlatt, in the flesh? Oh, Lord. Vera wasn't exactly sure how much more she could take. One more utterly laughable thought such as that would send her catapulting into the sun. 

Resigned, she thudded her forehead against the pole. "Shit..."  
  


Wilbur scowled down at her and pressed a finger on her forehead, pushing her up. "No, I'm not having this. You're bloody lying to me again, aren't you Vera? What on earth is with you now?"  
  
  


"Nothing, nothing, leave it," Vera closed her eyes in a test of patience.

As a businessman pushed past him to the exit, Elijah moved beside Wilbur. The latter opened his mouth to speak but he paused with a flourish of Elijah's hand. "Rahh, you man, she's probably just pressed about dat weddin' next week, ennit? Being honest, if I was you fam I'd be worried too, but I ain't a pussy so like, uh yeah, I'd be all like calm 'bout it you know?" 

Oh, well that was a perfectly reasonable excuse. She'd get behind that easily. Hopefully Wilbur would too and not pry. There was no way in hell she'd utter a single detail about what she was actually thinking to a soul. Vera scratched at her neck and nodded along. 

"Well, if you're really like actually worried, just _don't_." Wilbur offered his albeit lame advice. Though it really did seem he believed differently - Vera guessed that she was not very subtle about her inner thoughts. "It will be alright, hopefully. I mean look, things are probably not going to go that well after all things considered but... just grin and bear it. Remember, I'll be there for moral support and whatever-"  
  


"And me! Don't forget about me bruv," Elijah interjected, popping the collar of his puffer jacket. 

He gave an indifferent hum. "Right yeah, I don't think so."  
  


"Rahh! I will! There's gonna be a fight der, I know there will. My spidey senses are tingling and dat." He perked, sounding so obviously offended. "Your man can't hold up in a fight but you know _I_ can-"

Vera snorted. "My bloody arse..."

"Oi Vera, listen yeah, I'm doin' this for you innit." Wagging a finger at her, he leaned up against one of the windows. 

"Oh, bloody hell, Elijah. It's a wedding! No one is gonna break into a whole 'I'll-shank-your-nan-and-your-dog' at a _wedding_ for crying out loud." Wilbur sighed gravely and shook his head. "Knowing you, you'll spend all your time standing in the corner with that ridiculous puffer jacket and scaring the living shit out of every poor child. You couldn't even put on a proper shirt even if you tried, Elijah. No offence, but the whole tux thing really isn't going to work for you."

However idiotic it was of her, Vera couldn't help but think about Schlatt in his suit at that party. How wonderfully vicar-like he looked and how his hand pressed against her back as they danced like a pair of baboons with a nuclear bomb flinging around on their tail. Jesus, she really needed to stop this. 

He lunged, kissing his teeth. "Rah, shut your mouth man... Vera tell this dickhead I'm coming innit?"

They looked over at her, seeking their own self-assurance to which Vera only gave a tired nod. All she wanted to do was wallow in the giant hole of her hangover and self-pity for the rest of the journey. This wedding could not mean less to her even if she tried. The only reason she was going was to prove a point to her stupid family. One that showed them how damn well she was getting on without their interference. And of course, to piss them off with the presence of Wilbur and Elijah on her arm. 

"Told you. You man just wait 'til that fight happens. Just you wait."

Wilbur pinched the bridge of his nose and barely managed to stifle his scoff. "For the last bleeding time Elijah, there isn't going to be any fight! Trust me. God knows, the only way there'd possibly be a fight is if Schlatt decided to rock up-"

Vera bristled with a disgustingly obvious hitch in her breath. His gaze met hers, knowing that just by even mentioning his name Wilbur had managed to pry a backlash that he hadn't had the pleasure to see in months. Wilbur's lips clamped shut and with a quiet apology between his teeth, he reverted his gaze out into the darkness of the tunnel. Good riddance.

Elijah flickered his eyes between the pair. He frowned with a dull stupidity between his brows and Vera prayed to all fucking sources that were listening that the fucker wouldn't question a word on what had just happened between them. Then, at last, he perked up with all the enthusiasm of an eighty-seven-year-old great-aunt with very severe memory problems who had finally clocked a joke. 

"Ohhhh my days! Schlatt! Dat big man you was always arguing with innit? I remember him... eesh." He scratched at his forehead then continued. "Swear you fancied him, didn't you Vera? Hah, sad man, sad. Look at your face! Bet you gave him a right fat snog and you tried to tap and- rah... why you man look like that? Did something happen? Oh my god... did he...?" Elijah drew his finger up and pointed it between them. Lord have bloody mercy, did Elijah, in all his _wit_ , somehow manage to work out what happen? "Eesh! You man should've told me! Bruv... Nah, nah. That's so sad. Rest in peace my drillah. Fly high, my brother."  
  


She sputtered violently at some lame attempt to hide her snort. Fucking hell, did nothing other than drill music, drugs and puffer jackets roam around Elijah's head?

Wilbur clapped a pitiful hand on his shoulder, staring down at Elijah with his masterful feigned mournfulness. A shallow sigh escaped his lips and with a ridiculous wistful glint in his eye, he spoke, " Yes... that's right... died in a tragic, erm, motorboating accident in the Bahamas. Rest in peace."

For a brief moment, he looked over at Vera and her puffed cheeks in an attempt to control her laughter, with a sorry look in his eyes. Vera wasn't mistaken in thinking that he was apologising for even bringing Schlatt up in the first place. God, Wilbur had to know _something_. That bastard, Schlatt, must've said something so entirely suspicious that Wilbur knew better than to ever bring it up. 

Truly, she wished that he _had_ died in a tragic motorboating accident. It was far too comforting to imagine that git getting crushed beneath the waves with a giant motorboat drilling on his head like a Ford Transit gone feral, before a swarm of sharks came to eat his shitty remains. Vera wanted him dead, if it meant she could stop thinking about the next time she could see him and those deadly timberlands before her once more. If it meant that one day, she could finally put an end to all the absurd thoughts training around her head. Merely knowing that he _still_ existed irked her to no end. Her trust in karma and the hope that one day, she'd manage to get that fucking anus-rupturing asshole off her mind dwindled further with each second that passed. 

"Oi, why you jus' standing there like a wasteman? Move it, man," Elijah yanked onto her shirt and nodded on to the platform as the tube doors wrenched open. 

"Right, yeah," Vera stepped onto the platform, trailing behind the other two who had already made their way around the curve of the hallway.

She followed on and got onto the escalator, brushing past businessmen and other members of the public, leaning against the railing. Vera dragged her eyes amongst the masses of advertisements splattered against the wall, trying her best to ignore the bustles of heads and fragments of hair blocking the view from the other escalator beside her. Until she saw it. Oh, God, she saw it. Vera thought she had passed into the murk depths of the titanic when she fucking spotted _him_. Oh fucking shit balls _fuck_ , surely, she had to be tripping on some deadly hallucinogens. There was no sodding way...

Gliding down on the opposite side was a messy bush of curls. Vera peeked with a severe sharpness, looking at the camera strung around this person's neck that only barely covered the moronic dickie bow tied around the bright shirt of that _cow_.

Oh, holy fuck. Her worst fucking fear. The sort of thing she would crush into nothing but a small mushy brown stain if she saw it in her living room. 

Adam fucking Aquino was here. On the London Underground. In England. Alive. And glaring her down with those beatle-esque eyes as he noticed Vera was fucking staring. 

"Oh my God, no, no, no!" Vera tasselled her head around, seething beneath her breath. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. What in the bloody shitting bastard fucking shitty cunty bastard weaker _shit_ is he doing here? Jesus take the wheel, I'm seeing the fucking light. Strike me dead please, please, _please_."

She scrambled for anything that could protect her from the on-coming ticking time bomb. The rage was crawling on both of their faces, so painstakingly obvious it was almost amusing. Adam had already swivelled around, desperately trying to clamber his way back up the moving ramp like a second-rate walrus without flippers and covered in a bucket load of grease. People were gawking at the bloody scene, only making the sudden embarrassment flourish further because, _fuck_ , Adam sodding Aquino was here, chasing her up on an escalator on the fucking London Underground! She didn't blame them.

Adam was yelping and throwing up his hands as though he was challenging her to some dodgy duel. "O-oi! You! Ya fuckin' bitch! Don't think I didn't see ya flat a-"  
  


"Would you bloody shut it! It's nine in the morning for crying out loud! Stupid sodding Americans these days. Back in my day..."  
  


Vera thanked the lord for the grumpy old man that had shouted that and carefully struggled up the steps and sorry-ing her way past the line of people. She shuffled her way to the oyster podium, flashed her card and dashed out of the station. Elijah and Wilbur stood dutifully at the entrance, looking at her with nothing but pure confusion at her flushed face and her huffs of breath. 

"Right, what's this all about?" Wilbur wafted a vague hand at her state as the trio began their trek down the street, not even caring to give her a chance to catch her breath.

She thumped onto her chest, choking for air. "Fucking hell Wilbur, you won't believe what just happened."  
  


"Bet you got chased for dem knife crime scammin' card people down der, right? Man said you shoulda-"  
  


"No, no!"  
  


"Christ, what is it? Don't leave us hanging," Wilbur frowned down at her, bursting with curiosity.

Vera swallowed. "It's _him_."

"Who? Boris Johnson?"

"No, no! It's him - the fucking devil himself, the spawn of satan, the skid mark stain of hell," Vera announced with all the dramatisicism she could muster up. "Adam bloody Aquino is here. In England. The fucker probably followed us and tracked us down ready to sacrifice us to his sewer cult. I ain't having this. No, no, no..." 

Wilbur gawked, utterly baffled and probed on. Vera spiralled out all the details of the horrific event, feeling so entirely traumatised she was almost considering packing up her things and moving into the depths of North Korea and living her life as a crazy spinster. It was Elijah who finally spoke after her story, doing his usual threats about how he would 'shank him up' and other usual waffle. She was shaken with disbelief.

Why on earth was Adam Aquino in England? Though still adamant with her cult theory, could it be he was somehow invited to the wedding next week? Oh, Lord. This was not going well. Three months of utter peace and at last, as though God had bloody well shoved a lightning bolt up her arse, something had stirred. The awful ominous feeling that pooled deep within her gut only told her that the biggest tragedy of all was still yet to come. 

Only to make things worse, with some mocking pathetic fallacy, it had begun to fucking rain. Brilliant.

It was the sheer ridiculousness of the past ten minutes that had really set her off. How could she help it? Being reminded of her stupidity all those months ago felt like the final tip of the Titanic. She let herself fall off the edge, just for a moment. It wouldn't hurt to think... because Vera couldn't help but wonder if Schlatt was seeing the rain too. 


End file.
